Moments
by wolfraven80
Summary: SethxEirika modern-day AU. A collection of linked scenes and vignettes making up 60 days in the life of Eirika King. Ch 1: We’ve received seventeen more RSVPs...
1. Mail

**A/N:** This story takes place after the events of "Seven" but it isn't necessary to have read "Seven" to understand it, nor do I intend this to be a sequel as such, since it's written a rather different style. The idea comes from a challenge community on LiveJournal called 60damnprompts wherein you write sixty consecutive days of a single character's life based on 60 prompts. I've spent most of this year working on a second draft of some of my original fiction so I wanted to have a fanfiction project I could work on in spurts and this seemed to do the trick. There are arcs and an overarching story, but it's more of a slice of life fic than a plot-driven narrative. Also many of the pieces are short so with those I'll post a few at a time.

Anyway, my apologies for the lengthy note. I hope this story will be of amusement to some of you.

* * *

**Day Fifty: Mail**

"We've received seventeen more RSVPs. And an offer for a DVD mail-order club. That's odd."

Seth pokes his head out of the kitchen– he insisted on making dinner again (my personal chef will get spoiled with all the days off she's been getting since I started seeing Seth last fall). He looks puzzled.

"Odd? Eirika, I get offers like that every other week."

I can't help but smile. "I live in a penthouse apartment in one of Manhattan's most ritzy neighbourhoods, remember? I don't get junk mail. Seth?"

"Hmm?"

"You're making that face again."

Ever since I was little and Seth began working security for Renais Enterprises I've been familiar with that look– as if I were a strange visitor from another planet. He had that look the first time I mentioned borrowing my dad's private jet, and the time Ephraim and I told him we were renting an island in the Caribbean for our spring break. I've been seeing it a lot more often now that we're together.

"I'm sorry," he says as he rakes his fingers through his hair the way he always does when he's abashed. I bite my lip and resist the urge to cross the room and run my own fingers through it. It's been four months; should the effect have worn off by now? But he's so handsome and his hair is a wonderful shade of– I hesitate to call it red; it's not a carrot colour but a smidgen darker– russet maybe.

"So who else is coming?" He asks as he chops mushrooms at an alarming speed. I fear for his fingers. "Anyone I might actually know?"

I read out a list and his chopping falters, giving me a start as the knife nearly comes down on his hand. He looks pale as I walk into the kitchen.

"But, Eirika, they're... They..."

"Make movies. I know." I pat him on the arm. "They also work with some of the same charities I do. I had to invite them."

"And they... accepted?"

"Of course." He looks paler than ever, poor dear.

"But they're on the cover of magazines..."

"So is Ephraim from time to time."

"That's different. I can't get married in front of–" It's only as he throws up his hands that he realizes he's still holding a knife. He sets it down carefully and leans against the counter, taking a deep breath. I reach out to rub his back.

"It'll be just like all the parties you attended before."

He shakes his head. "That was different. When you're on the security detail you're trying to blend in. You don't need to talk to the guests. You're not expected to make conversation with people who've won Oscars."

I wrap my arms around his waist and lean my face against his back. It's as much to comfort myself as him. It frightens me when he gets in this mood. I'm always nervous that he'll decide it's all too much trouble. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I wish it could be just us– you know I do. But..."

"I know," he says, but I can still feel the tension in his body. I explained it all to him when he proposed three months ago. With everything that's happened– with dad... gone... and Ephraim having to take over the company, not to mention dealing with the remains of Grado Inc... We _need_ all the connections we have and I can't afford to have a small, private wedding. Things are so different from how I once imagined they'd be and ever since that night, ever since dad was killed... I stop myself sometimes in the middle of the day and wonder how we're supposed to go about our lives, knowing that in a single moment everything can change.

"You won't have to say anything," I tell Seth, giving him a squeeze. "I'll do all the talking. You just need to smile and nod and look handsome like a proper trophy husband. How about that?" I manage to earn a chuckle with that and he slides one of his hands over mine.

"As long as I don't have to change my name."

"You don't like my last name?" I say teasingly.

"'Eirika King' is a lovely name. 'Seth King' would just be strange."

I sniff. "Fine then. Stay 'Mr. Knightly' if you want, but for the record I'm going to spend the rest of my life enduring Jane Austen jokes because of it."

"I'll make it up to you."

"You'd better. It'll be over soon," I add, detaching myself from him as he straightens and returns to chopping the mushrooms.

He quirks an eyebrow even as he keeps his eyes on the blade of the knife. "Seven weeks isn't what I'd call soon."

"Relatively soon." He replies with a noncommittal sort of grunt. When I was a child Seth seemed like a superhero. When I was a teenager I idolized him like my friends did movie stars. I never knew until I started dating him that Seth could pout. "And after that we'll have the honeymoon. A nice trip somewhere sunny. The ocean. Sand. Quiet. Doesn't that sound good?" He's still chopping, though now he's moved on to green beans. "Oh and sex. Did I forget to mention that? The hot sweaty sex part?"

Ah! That did it. Typical. He's grinning now like a schoolboy. "I never realized before that honeymoons were actually bribes."

"More like incentives," I retort. After all the hassle, though, I'll be looking forward to the vacation too. And it's not as if we're waiting until our wedding night or anything like that– I don't have that kind of self-control when it comes to Seth– but there is something lovely about the idea of being together on our own tropical island. I give his arm a squeeze and go back into the living room to gather up the mail. "The next time you ask about the mail, I'm not answering."

"Agreed," he calls back.

I look over the DVD club material and head back into the kitchen. "I wonder how they got my address," I mutter as I toss the assortment of papers into the recycling bin hidden beneath one of the counter tops.

"Just be glad they don't have your email."


	2. Trance

**Day Forty-Nine: Trance**

"You haven't forgotten about tomorrow, have you?" Seth shakes his head and puts the movie in the DVD player. "Ephraim and Tana will be there and Gerik. You don't have to talk to Innes at all."

"Good," he says and comes to sit next to me on the couch. I dated Innes for a little while in college. I don't think Seth has ever forgiven him. Though that may be largely due to the fact that he once caught us making out. I was mortified. Seth told me recently that he wanted to shoot Innes on the spot.

"Just look at the baby, say something nice to Vanessa, and then mingle and enjoy the open bar."

"You're sure I can't just tell them I'm working?"

"It's a Saturday."

"I could be handling security matters on a Saturday."

"And Ephraim's in Europe." He sighs. I roll my eyes. "And no gun. I don't trust you with it." I curl in close to him before he can muster a reply. He puts his arm around me and we settle in for the movie. He presses 'play,' skips through the ads and– his cell phone rings. I snag the remote and hit pause while he answers.

"What?" My heart starts to race at the tone of his voice. "When?" I try to catch his eye but he's staring blankly across the room in a sort of trance. "What happened?" His voice is hoarse. I try to stay calm. It's not anything to do with me– he would have looked at me if it had to do with me or someone I know. Ephraim is safe. Tana is too– I talked to her before dinner. Everything's fine– but not for Seth.

It's a while before he speaks again and all the while that he's listening he sits quite still.

"When's the service?" Oh God... I force myself to take long, deep breaths. I would have handled things better a year ago, before dad was murdered. Now I get rattled so easily. It's better than it was last fall, but hearing the tone of Seth's voice right now makes me remember in a rush that night. Dad, the gunshots, Seth whisking me away, driving through the night on his motorcycle even though he'd been hit. Ephraim was missing. Everything was frantic, uncertain, and I was so afraid.

"I need a pen and paper." It takes me a second to realize he's talking to me.

"Sorry," I murmur and hurry to bring him what he needs.

He scribbles down an address and time, his script shaky. "I'll be there," he says and hangs up. And then he just sits there staring blankly at the paper in his hand– a sheet of ivory wedding stationary with gold trim.

"Seth, what is it?" I try to keep my voice steady but it's no use. "What happened?"

"Mark was killed in a shootout last night." I blank. I know about ten different Marks.

"Mark?"

"O'Neill."

"Oh!" I know that name. He was Seth's partner for a while when Seth served in the NYPD more than a decade ago. I'm surprised we didn't hear it on the news before now... but we were so busy at work today and then we just wanted to relax when we got home. "Oh Seth, I'm sorry." I put my arms around him and he rests his forehead against my shoulder, but he doesn't cry and I don't know what to do. I've never seen him like this. He sobbed when his father died. I was there at the hospital when they told him. So was my dad. After all, Seth's father had saved his life. I was twelve then. I'm twice that age now and I'm just as helpless.

"Did they get the ones who..."

"One of them was killed. The other tried to run but they caught him." He's quiet for a moment and then "He was married." His tone is so flat he might have been reading a script. "He had a little girl."

He draws back out of my arms and his expression... It's like he's not even here. "Did you see him often?" I ask, hoping to draw him back to me.

"Now and then. We'd go out for a beer. Catch up on things."

"I thought you didn't drink beer."

He shrugs. "I just prefer scotch."

"When's the service?"

"Sunday morning."

"I'll go with you." He nods. He's still not looking at me. "You don't have come tomorrow. If you want to just–"

"No, it's all right. I wouldn't know what to do with myself anyway." He stands up and I scramble to my feet. "Do you mind if I go home?"

"No. Of– of course not," I manage, stung. He usually stays over on weekends, and besides that, in a couple of weeks we'd planned to have his things moved over here. I'd be happy to just leave him be if he needs time alone; I don't understand why he needs to leave.

"What time are you heading out tomorrow?"

"Eleven-thirty."

"I'll be here at eleven." He heads to the foyer to retrieve his jacket. I tag along behind him like a lost pup.

"Seth..."

He pulls on his jacket, kisses me quickly, murmurs a goodnight, and then he's gone.

Is he going to do that when we're married? Just run off whenever something's bothering him? Rather than spend the night fretting I check my email, putter around online for a little while, and then go to bed early.

For a long time I just lie in bed, noticing that he's not there.


	3. Baby

**Day Forty-Eight: Baby**

It's a small party, at least as far as these sorts of things go– only two dozen people and I know all of them– and casual rather than the black tie affairs I normally have to attend. "He's lovely," I say as I reach out and baby Hayden wraps his tiny fingers around mine. Vanessa is smiling with a kind of seraphic benevolence and Innes draws himself up and looks very proud of himself. I'm still not sure whether they planned to start a family this early, but I'm certainly not about to ask.

"And very energetic," Seth adds as Hayden wriggles around in Vanessa's arms.

"He takes after his mother," Innes replies and he seems so unlike himself as he looks from Vanessa to his son that I'm hard pressed not to giggle.

After a few more minutes of chatting, Seth and I leave them to show off their son to the rest of the guests. I take Seth's arm and give him a squeeze. "You were perfect."

Seth snorts. "I'm going to drink all his scotch now."

"All right," I say with a laugh and let him go. He seems better than yesterday, though still somewhat sedate– even for Seth. His shoulders are slumped and he's dragging his feet a little. I wish I could just make it better. I wish that loving him could keep him from hurting.

"Eirika!" My worries wash away for a moment as Tana makes her way towards me and wraps me in a firm hug. "Is everything all right? I saw Seth when he first came in. He didn't seem like himself."

"Did you hear about the police officer who was shot?"

Tana tilts her head, looking worried. "Yes. Did Seth know him?"

"They used to be partners when Seth was still with the force. We got the call last night."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"The funeral's tomorrow. He's been sort of down."

"I can imagine. So... I guess I shouldn't come down tomorrow after all, then?"

I curse under my breath. "I'd completely forgotten!" I rifle through my purse for my cell phone and leave a message to cancel the dress fitting. My wedding gown finally came in and I'm supposed to try it on to see if it needs any more alterations. "Can you come in on Monday?"

"Sure," Tana replies. "I have some business to do anyway and I was hoping to see Ephraim when he gets back."

"I'll call you later then, once it's set up."

"Okay." She gives my shoulder a squeeze and smiles encouragingly.

I turn to glance towards the proud parents as Hayden squeals and I can't help but smile. "Your nephew's adorable."

Tana grins. "Isn't he? Innes finally did something right," she adds with a wink. And then, her attention moving to something just over my shoulder, "Your fiance's headed back here."

I turn and here he comes, scotch in hand. "You just like calling him my 'fiance,' don't you?"

"I do. You did have a crush on him for ages."

"Tana!" Seth is close enough to hear– and judging by the quirk of his lips I'm certain he did.

"So was Innes civil at least?" she asks Seth.

"Yes, Miss F– Tana," he corrects himself. He's still getting used to being on equal terms with us all after more than a decade of being only an employee.

"Did he twitch when you called him 'Innes' instead of 'Mr. Fletcher'?"

I chuckle. I've always gotten along with Ephraim but I credit that to our being twins. Innes and Tana's relationship has always been an ongoing drama.

Seth clears his throat. "Only a little."

To be honest, I rather have the impression that Innes disapproves of Seth, which is really quite absurd when you think that Vanessa happens to be a member of his own security staff. Pot calling the kettle black.

"I'm sorry to hear about you friend, Seth," Tana says.

"Thank you," he replies and I find myself reaching out to link my arm through his. For years there was a distance between us and now that it's been crossed I want to be touching him all the time as if telling him I love him weren't enough, as if I need this contact to assure him– or myself– that it's real. I just want him to know that I'm here for him. Why is it that men won't talk when things are bothering them?

"Oh! There's Marisa. Can you excuse me?" Tana says. "I'll see you on Monday?"

I nod and then Tana is off. Seth takes a sip of his drink and smiles.

"How is it?"

"Very nice. I intend to have more, if only on principle."

I quirk an eyebrow. "As long as I don't have to have you carried out of here."

"That's unlikely," he says, smiling.

He takes another sip of the scotch and I wait for him to bring down his glass before speaking. "So what did you do last night?" We should be mingling, I know, but I can't leave this hanging any longer. He didn't say a thing when he met me this morning.

Seth heaves a sigh. "I dug out an old box of photos from my closet and stayed up for a while going through them. I had some from back then."

I feel almost giddy with relief. "Why didn't you _tell_ me? I was worried!"

He cocks his head and peers at me for a moment. "Why?"

"Well... you just... _left_. And you didn't say anything. And I didn't know what to think and–"

"Eirika," he says firmly, taking me by the shoulders and looking me in the eye. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

I take a deep breath to quash a spark of frustration. "Please, next time just say something. I won't press you; I just need to know that you're okay."

"I will. All right?"

I nod and sigh. Across the room Hayden begins to wail and Vanessa excuses herself in order to tend to him. Glancing back at Seth I can see dark rings under his eyes and a hint of a five o'clock shadow on his chin. Tana was right; he doesn't look himself. "We don't have to stay too long."

"Seth, Miss King!" I turn as Gerik hails us. He, Marisa, and Tethys run a private investigation firm that worked with Innes to help uncover evidence against Grado Inc.

I take Seth's empty glass from him. "I'm going to get a glass of wine. You want a refill?"

"Very much."

I leave the boys to talk shop for a few minutes. If we can get through today and the rest of tomorrow we'll be okay. Maybe we'd have been better off if we'd stayed home, but on the other hand maybe it was good to see Hayden. He's young and darling and innocent and maybe it's good to be reminded of that. Or maybe I'm just looking for a silver lining where there isn't one.

Yes, I think a glass of wine would be a good thing right now.


	4. Funeral

**Day Forty-Seven: Funeral**

Sunday is appropriately sombre as we file into the church for the mass. The family wanted it to be private, without the trappings offered to a slain police officer. Even so, the pews are filled.

Seth is wearing a dark suit. I'm in the same black dress I wore to my dad's funeral and it feels strange to have it on again. The front pews are filled with men in police uniforms, six of whom will act as pallbearers. I manage to catch a glimpse of the widow. Her daughter looks to be about five. I'm not certain which of the two I feel worse for. I know what it is to lose a father to violence and a mother before I could really know her. I also know the terror of almost losing the man I love.

The mass is very traditional. Family members do readings. I tune it out because it's suddenly all too soon and I'm hearing Ephraim's voice quavering as he tries to talk about our father at the service last summer.

I'm pulled back to myself when the third reader stumbles over a passage, something from _Romans_. "For your sake we are being killed all day long; we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered."

I know this reading. I chose the readings for dad's service and researched it online. I didn't want help, advice, opinions– people who never met dad poking their well-intentioned noses into it. I did it all myself. But I remember that passage. I think that it usually gets left out of the reading. I wonder why the family chose to leave it in. Lieutenant O'Neill died in the service of this city and its inhabitants. Perhaps they thought it fitting.

His father steps up to the podium to say a few words. He talks about how proud he was of his son when he joined the force... and how proud he is of him still.

They haven't had time to secure actual bagpipe players on such short notice, but a recording works just as well, and, as the mass ends, the music begins and the pallbearers raise the coffin and process out of the church. The familiar melody of "Amazing Grace," made haunting by the timbre of the pipes, echoes through the church and I'm left wiping tears from my cheeks. Seth is blinking rapidly.

Mark O'Neill's widow walks behind the coffin and all I can think of is how glad I am that Seth is no longer a police officer.


	5. Wedding

**Day Forty-Six: Wedding**

"Eirika, you look gorgeous!"

"Really?"

"Yes! Spin so I can see the whole thing."

I feel as light as the silken fabric of my wedding gown as I spin for Tana. The seamstress waits patiently by while we delight in the dress as if we were still little girls. It's a Vera Wang gown, strapless and shimmering with a short, ruffled train. Wearing it, I feel like a princess.

"It's wonderful!" Tana's face is almost shining with glee; you'd think she were the one getting married. "Seth will fall over himself when he sees you in it."

I laugh at the sudden image of Seth stumbling, all decked out in a tux. Seth doesn't stumble. He just doesn't.

I pause for a moment to inspect myself in the full-length mirror. The fabric shimmers and makes a delightful crinkling noise as I turn this way and that to get a good look at it. It's everything I could have hoped for. There's still so much left to do for the wedding, so many things that need to be finalized, but as I stand still and stare at myself in the gown it really hits me: I'm getting married. I'm getting married to Seth. I can't believe it; it's too much like a dream to be true.

Tana comes up behind me so that I can see both our faces in the mirror. "I'm so happy for you," she whispers, taking my hand. I squeeze her hand and stand there for a minute, smiling.

"It's perfect," I tell the seamstress. "I love it."

Only a few slight alterations need to be made and soon enough Tana and I are at our favourite Italian place in Soho. The menus feature the Italian names for everything. Seth was petrified the first time I took him here. I'm quite used to asking the waiter when I'm uncertain of what something is; Seth balks at it. The names are meant to make the most simple items sound exotic. I'm having "Verdure Miste Alla Griglia"– all that to say grilled vegetables with seasoned olive oil. Tana meanwhile is picking at her "Calamari Saltati Con Pomodoro, Avocado Peperoncino," i.e. sauteed calamari with tomato, avocado, and pepper. It looks delicious and I'm feeling rather envious of her choice.

"So how are the preparations coming?"

I sigh. "I've got about two hundred items on my checklist."

Tana winks. "Enjoy it. You'll only be doing it once."

"Thank goodness." Smiling, Tana leans back in her chair and sighs. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Tana," I drawl, but she straightens and shakes her head.

"It's nothing. Don't worry. What about the wedding planner?"

I'm about to protest but then let it drop. Whatever's on Tana's mind will have to stay there; there's no use in pressing her, I've found over the years. "It's all right now that she understands I don't want to be consulted about every single niggling detail."

"That's an improvement," Tana says with a laugh. "I thought your head was going to explode when she asked you if you were all right with ivory napkins instead of pearl."

I groan. "As long as they're not hot pink I think I'll be fine."

I turn towards the window at the sound of sirens. A police car. And suddenly all this talk of my wedding seems frivolous.

"How was it yesterday?" Tana asks quietly.

"It was... very sad. He was only a few years older than Seth, you know." It's been less than a year since Seth was shot. The bullet pass through his shoulder but there was so much blood... I clear my throat and turn my attention back to lunch even though I've little in the way of appetite anymore. "Some of the others, the ones Seth's kept in touch with, invited us out for drinks on Friday. They wanted to have a get-together in honour of Mark."

"That'll be nice."

I poke at the vegetables on the plate with my fork. "I hope so. I'm a bit nervous. I'm not used to being around..."

"The little people?" Tana ventures with a grin.

"I was going to say police officers."

"Of course you were."

"_Tana_."

"All right enough of that. Back to the wedding. Or better yet, the honeymoon," she says with a wink.

And I can only smile. I know that at any moment your life can go to pieces, but right now we're safe, we're well and have the luxury of dwelling on frivolous things. It's my wedding and I want it to be beautiful.


	6. Birth

**Day Forty-Five: Birth**

"I'm certain this deal will usher in the birth of a whole new era of financial success for both our companies. We're all very fortunate things have turned out this way."

Ephraim and I exchange glances, he at the head of the long boardroom table and I at his right. Neither of us so much as raises an eyebrow but I know he's thinking the same thing. Fortunate. _Fortunate_! It was less than a year ago and already it's slipped this Armani-clad serpent's mind that my father was murdered. That's the only reason we're treating with Carcino Ltd. at all. Our stock tumbled after the incident and we don't have the resources alone to hold Grado Inc. together. With Vigrade and Lyon gone and the scandal surrounding the company, they're in a far worse state than us. We need to make new business ties if we want to rebuild. Ephraim and I are fine no matter what happens to Renais Enterprises; the same isn't true of our employees.

"Thank you, Mr. Pablo," my brother says icily. "Let's move on then, shall we. Eirika?"

I begin my presentation, complete with graphs and pie charts. Even though I have equal shares of the company, it was long ago agreed that Ephraim would head the Renais Enterprises after dad retired. At least that's how we thought things would happen. I'm head of our charitable operations, a role I've always been happy with though some of the decisions I have to make are unpleasant. Everyone wants donations but we have to pick and choose carefully. Some causes simply garner more attention and better serve the company's image than others even if they're just as important.

I can see Pablo's eyes glaze over as I talk about our efforts to make the company greener, and our donations to the Red Cross– at least until I mention the numbers I had our accountants draw up. The long-term energy savings and the tax benefits from our charitable gifts seem to perk him up.

When the meeting wraps up Ephraim pulls me aside to talk and we head to his office. The two back walls are windows and offer a superb view of Manhattan, the taxi cabs like scurrying yellow beetles on the streets below. I never get tired of the view. "What do you think of our new business partner?" he asks as I close the door behind us.

I sniff. "I'll be happy to see him slither back under the rock he came out from. I think we should keep an eye on him."

"We're in agreement then."

"Aren't we always?"

"Very nearly," he replies and his fingers glance over my cheek for an instant. He takes a seat at his desk, steepling his fingers.

"You look jetlagged still."

"I'm fine. Don't worry." I huff. Tana said the same thing yesterday. "I heard about Seth's friend. How is he?"

"Quiet." I've barely seen him since the service... and I miss him.

Ephraim nods. "He'll be all right."

"I know. I just–" My blackberry is vibrating– I'd turned off my ringer during the meeting and haven't turned it back on yet. I look at the number and smile. "It's Seth."

"I figured. The beatific grin gives you away."

I'd shoot Ephraim a dirty look but I'm too happy to as I read the message. 'Dinner tomorrow night– my place?'

I key in my reply. 'Yes.'


	7. Understanding

**Day Forty-Four: Understanding**

Every time I visit Seth's apartment I can't help but notice that it's small. I just... can't help it. He's always so pleased about it being so spacious for a downtown apartment that I don't dare say that to me it looks tiny. At least it's nicely decorated. It's not a "bachelor pad" like Forde's place, which, though I've never seen it myself, has become infamous among our security personnel.

"And who's this one?" Cuddled up on the couch in Seth's arms, I point to the policeman in the photo.

Seth peers at it a moment. "Jim O'Malley. He's in Jersey now."

I flip through several more photos, all of men and women in NYPD uniforms or in the garb of cadets. "You look so young..."

"I was nineteen."

I chuckle. "I was eleven." I stop to inspect a group photo taken after hours it seems– it looks like they're at a pub. There's a blonde with her arm around Seth's neck. He looks a little distressed in the picture to be honest. "Who's she?"

"Linda Smith."

"She's pretty," I say with a raised eyebrow as I turn to look into Seth's face.

"She swore like a sailor," he replies, giving me a squeeze.

I intertwine my fingers with his and lean my head back against his chest. "Thank you for sharing these with me."

His lips brush a kiss over my temple. "I know I've been... distant this week. I just needed time to think."

I give his hand a squeeze. "It's all right. I understand." And that's all we need to say about it really because each of us does understand. It's true I was worried that first night, but as long as I know that he's all right then I know I can let him have his space and that he'll come back to me.

It's a weeknight and I ought head back home, but I feel so warm and pleasantly drowsy in Seth's arms and it's not long before I doze off.


	8. Kiss

**Day Forty-Three: Kiss**

"Come in," Seth says in answer to my knock. "Eirika." The warmth in his voice when he speaks my name and the smile on his face are enough to make my insides melt a little every time.

I close the door behind me and stand there for a moment in his office. It's so much more spartan than mine: unadorned beige walls, a dark grey coloured desk (the kind made with synthetic materials and not the real, varnished wood in my office), and matching file cabinets. There's very little in the way of clutter– plans of the building are rolled up in one corner and a file folder is open on his desk, and not much else.

"You should hang some pictures," I suggest as I perch on the corner of his desk. As always when he's at work Seth is wearing a suit and tie. I rarely ever see him so much as remove his jacket while we're at the office.

"It's the office of the head of security: it's not meant to be welcoming." He quirks an eyebrow. "But do make yourself comfortable, Miss King."

"I intend to, Mr. Knightly." And I lean forward and press my lips against his.

"Hey Seth, I need to talk to you about– Oops." We break apart to stare at the doorway where Forde is peering at us with a bemused expression. I can feel my face turning quite scarlet. "Guess I should've knocked, huh?"

"It would be _appreciated_ in future," says Seth.

"Uh, hello, Miss King."

"Hello, Forde."

"Nice weather today."

"It's raining."

"Is it? Oh." He runs fingers through his hair and then down his ponytail.

Seth clears his throat. "Did you want something, Forde?"

"No. I mean yes but it can wait till... uh... later. I'll just get out of your way real quickie. I mean quick. Uh... Bye."

Forde dashes out of the office, tossing the door closed behind him, and even though I've known him for a decade I still want to crawl under the nearest piece of furniture and not come out for a good while. I groan and squeeze my eyes shut. I open them when Seth chuckles.

"You're lovely when you're mortified, you know," he says and brushes his fingers over my cheek... which just makes me flush all the more.

"I came to remind you about this weekend." I wince as my voice is pitched higher than it should be. "We need to get you a new desk and start going through your stuff." He's parting with most of his furniture, but the charity we offered it to can't pick it up for a few weeks so he'll be keeping the apartment through March. The plan, though, is to have all his things moved into my apartment by the weekend after this one.

"You could have messaged me." I can see the smile tugging at his lips.

"Well yes... but I wanted to..." I never get to blunder through the rest of that sentence, though, as Seth kisses me with an ardour wholly inappropriate to the workplace. My hand is on the back of his neck, his fingers, tangled in my hair, and I delight in the warmth of his skin, in his boldness, his taste, his scent. I'm left breathless and lightheaded when he pulls away.

It's not fair. I want to bring him home and tear that suit off of him but... "You remember I have a business dinner tonight?" He nods, leaning back in his chair and looking far too pleased with himself. I sniff and a sly smile creeps onto his lips– there's another thing I never knew until I began dating him. He does so enjoy tormenting me; he says I have no patience...

"I'm sure we can hold out until tomorrow night."

"We have the... thing..." I say gesturing vaguely. "With your police friends."

"It's a Friday. We can stay up late."

I'm going to spend the entirety of tonight's dinner thinking about that now.

As I get up to leave he snatches my hand and places a kiss on my knuckles that sets a host of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. "Goodbye, my darling," he whispers. I kiss him on the cheek and head back up to my own floor.

Just as I'm packing up my things for the day and getting ready to head out to dinner, Ephraim pokes his head into my office. "Hello, sister dear. What's this I hear about you and Seth making out in his office today?"

I'm going to have Forde killed. No... I'm going to do it myself.


	9. Police

**Day Forty-Two: Police**

I've never been an afficionado of pubs. The scratched up hardwood floor, fake fireplace, dart boards and pool tables in the back, and vintage beer advertisements framed and hung on the walls are quite far removed from the chic restaurants of which I'm a regular patron. But as we sit in slightly rickety chairs with mugs of beer (poured from a pitcher that's still sitting in the middle of the table!), Seth looks quite at his ease. He's hung up his jacket on the back of his chair along with his tie, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. Never in a million years would he do that at the office.

"At least we finally got a raise," says a burly blond Lieutenant named Scott. I smile and nod even though I'm not quite certain what he's been talking about; I was too distracted by the stuffed moose head looming over the fake hearth to listen properly.

The waiter arrives with a pen and notepad and I bite my lip because I haven't decided yet. Everything looks so... greasy. "What'll it be tonight?" They go around the table ordering buffalo wings, burgers, and steaks. "And for you, miss?"

"Oh. I'll have the... umm... chicken wrap." That seems safe enough. I hear a snicker from across the table and Seth shoots a dirty look at the man in question, a rookie, younger than me, named Darren.

"Be nice," says the woman next to him, elbowing him as she does. "We can't all eat like you do and keep our girlish figures." This earns a laugh from around the table and everyone is relaxed again.

A few of the officers have brought their wives or girlfriends along: one is a paramedic, the other a homemaker, and the third, a secretary. Just from the scattered fragments of small talk I've heard from them I know that my life is nothing like theirs. They talk about their bills, their bosses, the public schools their children attend. All of these things are foreign to me. And it's as if Seth knows what I'm thinking for, beneath the table, his hands slides over mine.

As we wait for the food, they begin telling stories about Mark. When it's Seth's turn, he talks about Mark when he was younger– when they were both younger, a decade ago. He must seem calm to them all, but I know him so well: there's a tautness to his voice and I can tell it's difficult for him. Those years he spent in the force, Mark was like an elder brother and the smile on Seth's lips, slight as it is, is wistful.

When the food finally arrives, it obscures the table– the plates are huge! And the food... I can feel my arteries hardening just being at the same table with it. I feel a little ill watching the men devour it all along with hearty helpings of frothy beer.

They're trading close call stories and Seth is about to begin one of his own when Darren interrupts. "Just why the hell is _he_ here anyway? He turned in his badge to go live a cushy life and marry a rich b–"

"Shut up, Darren," says Scott as Seth leaps to his feet. I feel dazed rather than insulted.

"Don't you read the news?" one of the others hisses. I stand and lay a hand on Seth's arm. He glances at me and I shake head.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Darren says.

"Last year," I say calmly, "my father was murdered." In my mind, I'm wearing a navy-blue blazer and facing down a boardroom. "A group of men were hired to kill him, my brother, and me. I would be dead now if it weren't for Seth. He was shot getting me to safety." He still has a scar on his right shoulder from the bullet wound. I was so afraid I'd lose him that night. "He left the police force after his own father was shot to death doing the same _cushy_ job."

The table's fallen silent and I'm tempted to call for the cheque. It's the sort of thing they'd do in a movie for effect, but there's no need to make a scene– or more of one anyway– just because of one rather unpleasant boy when everyone else has been quite courteous.

I squeeze Seth's arm again and we both take our seats. He's still glowering at Darren, who's not meeting his eyes. I have a sudden image of Seth asking him if he wants to take it outside. Is it strange that the idea of Seth getting into a fistfight over me is somehow... sexy?

The rest of the evening is uneventful. Darren sulks and doesn't say much else during dinner. As we're pulling on our jackets and saying our goodbyes, Scott shakes both our hands and says in a low tone "I'm sorry Darren was such a jackass. He's got more balls than brains."

Seth is silent on the way home. My attempts to draw him out are met with a grunt. It's only when we get back to my apartment that he throws down his jacket and calls Darren a very rude name.

"It's all right," I say, squeezing his arm.

"No, it's not. How can you not be angry after what he said to you?"

"I am angry. I'd like to have seen you knock some sense into him. But..."

"But what?"

"What he thinks of me and of you... It doesn't matter. There are always people like him and I'm used to ignoring them. You should be too."

"Eirika..." He shakes his head.

"Or you could start wearing your fencing foil around and challenge people to duels to protect my honour." He cracks a smile and I can feel my own frustration melt away with the sight of it.

"Gladly." He smiles with all the warmth that no one else ever sees, the warmth he hides beneath a mask of professionalism and reserve whenever he wears a suit and tie. He brushes his fingers over my face and I desperately want him to lean forward and kiss me.

"You're my knight in shining armour, you know. You always have been," I whisper.

When he does kiss me, I want to laugh because he tastes like barbeque sauce– which I've never much liked until this moment. When he kisses me again, long and deep and slow, his hands wandering, and his body, warm against mine, all I want is to bring him to my room, strip off that suit, and press my lips against the scar on his shoulder.


	10. Insanity

**Day Forty-One: Insanity**

The Saturday morning crowds are a bit more than we bargained for. Or at least they're more than _I_ bargained for– Seth may have mentioned something to this effect. I had hoped it would be less crowded earlier in the morning but we got to a later start than normal. We were up late. Gloriously late.

We took the subway, which was novel; I rarely do so. I've lived in New York City my entire life but I've always avoided its more... colourful... areas and I've often had an escort of some sort– dad always worried about our safety ever since the attempt on his life when we were kids. When I studied at Harvard it was the first time I'd ever really been on my own. It's strange now to walk down the streets like a normal person with only Seth beside me. And the subway was interesting, particularly the man dressed in what looked to be footie pajamas who was asking for donations to rebuild Ebbets Field. I could be wrong about this, but I think there's an apartment building at Ebbets Field now.

The showrooms in the furniture store are crowded and I'm glad to have Seth a step ahead of me. I think I'd lose my mind on my own, but he looks quite comfortable shouldering his way through the slow-moving shoppers with an "Excuse me." Some of them turn, scowling, and I can't help but notice how the women's faces soften as soon as they lay eyes on him. Should I be jealous? Mostly I just feel proud that he's mine.

"Finally," I sigh as we reach the showrooms for home offices.

"Are you all right?" Seth asks as I pull off my jacket.

"Fine. Just a little warm. There are so many people..."

He nods. "Saturdays..."

"I usually do my shopping on weekdays." His lips quirk but he doesn't say anything. I raise an eyebrow. "Are thinking of making a joke about people with _real_ jobs?"

"Of course not," he says but there's a twinkle in his eyes... one that I can only excuse when he takes my hand and presses his lips to it. The diamond on my finger catches the light and for an instant I feel giddy. I'm going to marry him.

We start walking through the office showrooms and it's only a few minutes before a salesman approaches. "May I help you with anything?"

"Yes, we're looking for a desk," I tell him.

"A writing desk or a computer desk?"

"Computer."

"For you?"

"No, for my fiancé," I say taking Seth's hand. "So something nice and tall."

"Do you have a particular style in mind? We have a variety of antique style desks– with all the modern commodities of course. We have some very nice Edwardian desks or British classics in a selection of finishes. We also have a modern collection– steel and glass are very popular right now."

I turn to look at Seth's face and he has the air of a deer in the lights of an oncoming tractor trailer. "I don't think we've really decided yet," I say. "We just started decorating so we want to get an idea of what's out there."

We look at the modern desks, the sort of thing Ephraim likes to have at his place, all clean lines and sleek angles. After that we move on to the classic designs, which were always dad's favourite. The salesman is showing us a handsome heavyset desk in a deep, almost mahogany-coloured finish. It looks like something they might have made a hundred years ago but he shows us the hidden keyboard drawer and the cleverly-placed holes for computer wires. "It comes in several finishes. This one is a cinibar finish, but it's also available in Hastings, rustique, and charcoal."

"It's very nice," Seth manages to choke out. He looks a little pale. "I'd like to discuss it with my fiancé."

The salesman's raised eyebrows are the only clue that he's surprised. He takes the hint and leaves.

Seth grabs me by the arm and pulls me to one side. "Seth?"

"Eirika, it's a four-thousand dollar desk," he hisses.

I stare blankly at him for a moment. "Well I... I wasn't sure what you were looking for. I figured it wasn't a custom piece and not one of those cheap ones you have to assemble yourself and–" He has this look on his face, like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Oh. You did want one of those..."

He looks embarrassed. "I like putting them together."

I start to giggle and after a few moments we're both laughing. People cast us sideways glances as if we've lost our minds, but I don't care. "I'm sorry," I say, leaning my head against his shoulder for a moment. "I am trying."

"I should have said something. I thought you'd disapprove."

"It's not what I'm used to," I admit. "But it's your office and you can do whatever you want with it. Okay?" He nods. "Let's go home and pick out something online."

"Agreed."

I take his arms and we venture back out into the Saturday morning madness.


	11. Impossible

**Day Forty: Impossible**

"Are you keeping this mug?"

"I like it."

"But it has a moose on it."

"I _like_ it," he repeats, less than gently. I set down the ungulate-inspired monstrosity (why would anyone drink coffee out of _that_? I thought Seth had better taste...) and heave a sigh. I had thought packing up his things would be easier than this. He's pulling his collection of CDs off the shelf and tossing them into a box with a great deal more clatter than necessary. "But, Seth..."

"You're being impossible."

It was an easy decision that he should move in with me. I have enough space and the guest bedroom that I never use is going to be his office– or basically the room he can do whatever he wants to with. It was going so well up until now.

"Do you want to check these?" he all but growls at me, holding out the box of CDs. "You can make sure there's nothing that might offend all your _friends_." "Your "rich friends" is what he means; I can tell from his tone. We already went through his movies but that was to make sure we didn't own anything in duplicate. He made that face of his when I told him I'd never actually seen _The Godfather_. We struck a deal: I'll watch the three _Godfather_ movies with him and he'll watch _Pride and Prejudice_ (the full six hour version) with me.

Seth continues attacking his CD shelf and I wander into his bedroom. His clothes and his books will come over in another trip. Today we're only bringing as much as we can carry ourselves. To be honest, there's not that much. He insisted on keeping some of his kitchenware for when he cooks; he likes having _his_ things even if I have a very well equipped kitchen– not to mention a professional cook on staff. There was also a chair he wanted to keep for his office, an old stuffed leather thing. It looks rather beat up and I offered to buy him something newer but his brow crinkled and he gave me a rather stiff "No thank you"... and for a moment he wasn't _my_ Seth, but our security chief, a very polite, very handsome stranger, the one who had tried to keep me at arm's length for so long. But it had lasted only a moment and I hadn't thought much of it. I guess the mug was the last straw.

In the corner are a few of his high school fencing trophies. He pulled them out of the closet to show me the first time I came over to his apartment. I wish he could have gone to college so that he'd have been able to keep competing. He does love it so and he moves like he was born with a sword in his hand. Maybe he was born in the wrong time. He'd have made an excellent knight, rescuing damsels and fighting duels and all that.

With a sigh, I drop down to sit on the edge of his bed. I wonder if it's normal that I'm so glad he's parting with it and all the linens too. Sometimes I almost feel like I can smell Natasha on his sheets even though they parted ways years ago when I was still in my teens. Mind you, I have a niggling suspicion that they saw each other after that whenever she was visiting New York. They only broke up because she took a position at a San Francisco hospital.

I flip through the books on his bedside table– a military history of the Charlemagne era and another one on the last year of World War II . I can still hear him carrying on rather noisily in the living room. I set the books down and pull open the table's drawer. There's a pencil, some loose change, a few photos from company Christmases, a pad of notepaper, an address book, and... a dusty box of condoms?

"Did you want to keep these?" I ask as he stalks into the room.

He looks ready to snap at me but then he realizes what I'm holding up and rakes his finger through his russet hair, clearing his throat. "Those are... old."

I raise an eyebrow. "I certainly hope so." We've taken other precautions so I know they're not there for my benefit.

"You can toss them out."

"You're sure you don't have any sentimental attachment to them?"

"Eirika!"

I know it's wrong to goad him but... that damnable coffee mug... "Was this Natasha's favourite brand?"

His expression shifts like gathering storm clouds but he says very calmly, "Do you really want to discuss the arrangements Natasha and I had?"

"No." I cross my arms. He sets his shoulders. We glower at each other for a few moments and then finally I can't stand it any longer. "Why are you so upset over an ugly coffee mug?"

"It was my father's," he snaps.

"Oh," I say very quietly.

He sits down not quite next to me. "When my father was young, my grandfather used to take him hunting and fishing in the Adirondacks so he always liked 'rustic' things." I can't help but smile when Seth uses air quotes.

"I'm sorry," I say, reaching over to him. "Why didn't you just say so?"

"I knew you wouldn't like it."

"I know but... I'd have understood. I miss my dad too, you know." He puts his arm around my shoulders and draws me closer to him. I lean my head on his shoulder and we stay like that for a while. I think we've done enough packing for today.


	12. Love

**Day Thirty-Nine: Love**

I love how serious, humourless even, he looks at work when he's in his suit and tie... because I know what he's like when he strips off that jacket and loosens his tie, the cotton and silk armour he wears to the office every day.

"And with only the two entrances it's a simple matter to secure the site," Seth concludes.

"Wonderful," Ephraim says. I wouldn't normally attend security briefings but this one concerns me personally. "Moving on to the next order of business... The wedding. Kyle?" Seth may be our head of security but his second, Kyle, will be handling arrangements for the wedding since Seth will be otherwise occupied.

I suppose I ought to be paying attention to the briefing, but I've always left security in the hands of our staff and I find myself staring at Seth, picturing him in his tux and imagining what it'll be like to walk down the aisle towards him. Seth is being so attentive– he's taking notes! I love how, when he catches my eye, he can't help but smile.

A number of our senior security personnel are also guests at the wedding so they've opted to get outside help in addition to our regular staff– that is if you can really call Frelia Co.'s staff "outside help."

"Syrene's assured us there should be no problem," Kyle concludes.

Ephraim nods. "Is there anything else?"

"One thing." I glance down the table at Forde. His tie, as always, is loose and he's got a five o'clock shadow at ten a.m. "We've had a weird glitch on our mainframe for the past few days. System keeps warning about intrusions but we can't find anything."

"And?"

Forde shrugs. "Don't know yet. Franz is looking into it. He's the security system whiz."

Ephraim looks uneasy but he nods. "All right, but I want regular updates on the matter."

"Yes sir," Forde says cheerily.

"Nothing else then?" Everyone is silent so Ephraim calls an end to the meeting.

"Can't wait till the wedding!" Forde says, grinning as we file out.

I sniff. "I told you last week: You're uninvited." I haven't forgotten about him tattling on me and Seth.

"I have to be there. I'm part of the security staff after all, Princess," he replies glibly before being on his way. I sigh. I wish he wouldn't call me that. Miss King. Princess. His idea of a joke. It's embarrassing.

"Seth?"

"Hmm?" He follows me down the hall to my office.

"Don't forget the wedding planner is coming over lunch on Wednesday."

"As if I could forget."

I pat his shoulder. "It won't be that bad."

He raises an eyebrow, looking thoroughly unconvinced, but says nothing.

"Miss King, something came for you during the meeting," my assistant announces as we reach my office. "I left it on your desk." She gives Seth an odd glance and I'm not certain why until we walk into my office and find a stunning bouquet of yellow roses on my desk.

I check the card. "They're from Saleh." I'm surprised the flowers don't wither with the look Seth gives them. I dated Saleh for a while in college. "He's in town for a conference."

"How nice," Seth grumbles.

I even love that's he jealous.


	13. Roses

**Day Thirty Eight: Roses**

"They were roses."

"They were _yellow_ roses. Yellow roses symbolize friendship."

"Or jealousy and infidelity."

"Only in Germany, Seth."

Seth snorts. "And Japan."

I roll my eyes. "Praise be to Wikipedia. Honestly, Seth... Saleh and I..." I shake my head. "It was all very platonic. You know that." I reach across the table to squeeze his hand. He smiles at me.

We've escaped the office for a lunch date with Saleh on this fine Tuesday afternoon and he's bordering on lateness, which is quite unlike him. When he does finally arrive, it's strange to see him decked out in a jacket and tie. He never dressed up much when I knew him at Harvard, but he's here for a conference so I suppose khakis wouldn't cut it.

"I'm sorry," Saleh says as he reaches the table. "I had trouble getting away from my colleagues."

"It's all right. You're just fashionably late."

"It's good to see you again, Eirika," he says and I suppose Seth must be seething as Saleh embraces me.

"This is my fiancé Seth."

Saleh reaches out to shake Seth's hand and I see him wince a little at Seth's grasp. "The roses were lovely," Seth says, glowering.

"Oh. Uh–"

"Let's all sit down, shall we?" I say. Once we're seated I give Seth's foot a slight kick under the table; he glances at me with the air of an injured puppy.

Mercifully, the waiter comes quickly to take our orders. Since Seth is still pouting and Saleh is naturally reserved, I go ahead and make small talk. I only hear from him now and then, but I know that Saleh's been doing well these past years. He was a graduate student in history when I was an undergrad. He's since finished his PhD and is now doing post-doctorate work. "So how's the conference going so far?"

"It's been interesting. My paper was well received this morning."

"What was it about?"

"The Punic War."

I'm almost startled when Seth actually speaks. "Which one?"

"The first."

Ha! I should have known that would do it. Seth devours books on military history; he always has. Soon I'm lost in the back and forth discussion of Roman tactics, but they're both gentlemen and after a bit they leave off and apologise for getting carried away. Conversation turns to work, the weather, the wedding, and all the normal things we can all three of us discuss. By the time lunch is winding down Seth is feeling relaxed enough to actually leave the table for a moment in order to use th men's room.

Once he's out of sight Saleh turns to me, a slight smile on his lips as he says, "So he's the one I was standing in for."

"What?"

"At Harvard... I always had the impression I was a substitute of sorts."

"I–" But I can't deny it. Saleh always reminded me of Seth: his intelligence, his love of history, the way he was always so serious and such a gentleman– even the fact that he's several years older than me reminded me of Seth. "I'm sorry," I manage finally. "I never meant to–"

"It's all right," he cuts in. He's smiling. "Your company was lovely and I'm well enough satisfied that we're friends."

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry about the flowers, by the way. I didn't mean to upset your fiancé. They're yellow– I thought they were okay. Or at least that's what I read on Wikipedia."

I smile and bite my lip. Poor Seth– I'm afraid he'd worry if he were to come back and find me laughing.


	14. Rescue

**Day Thirty-Seven: Rescue**

"No, if Innes is at the same table, he and Ephraim will kill each other. You could put him here with Gerik's group," I say, pointing to the seating chart.

"Ah of course. A homicide _would_ be rather inauspicious after all," L'Arachel replies with a laugh like tinkling water. Seth raises an eyebrow but says nothing. I know he finds her quite puzzling. Not that I can blame him; she's known far and wide for her eccentricity... and good taste, hence her success in Paris as an up and coming wedding planner for the wealthy.

We go on making adjustments to the seating plan and I can see Seth's eyes glazing over. He did need to be here earlier to confirm where his guests would be seated. He doesn't have a lot of them; he has no family of his own, and aside from the handful of NYPD officers he's kept in touch with, most of his friends work at our company.

"Now about the menu, I was thinking..."

A look of silent desperation flashes over his features before they slide back into a blank stare. I wish it didn't make me nervous. He would never leave over this– I know that. But even so I find myself reaching out to rest my hand on his knee. Out of the corner of my eye I see him glance at me and his hand covers mine.

"Love is glorious thing, is it not?" L'Arachel announces and I can feel myself blushing up to the tops of my ears. Seth's palm is suddenly sweaty.

After another ten minutes of discussing the virtues of shrimp versus scallops for the reception dinner, Seth's shoulders are slumped and I decide I've no longer any choice but to take matters into my own hands. "Could you excuse me a moment, L'Arachel? I need to make a phone call."

"Of course. Now, Mr. Knightly, what are your feelings on balsamic vinegar?"

As I get up, Seth casts me a look like a drowning man might a life jacket.

"Mr. Knightly?"

"Hmm?"

"Balsamic vinegar?"

"I... didn't know I was supposed to have feelings about balsamic vinegar." Poor dear.

I step out of my office, unclip my cell phone and hit speed dial. "Ephraim, I need a favour."

"Aren't you and Seth supposed to be meeting with that crazy wedding planner of yours?"

"We are, but I think Seth is on his last legs. Could you call him and tell him you need to see him right away. Don't tell him why until he's actually there." I can hear Ephraim snickering. "I'm going to remind you of this someday when your fiancé is planning _your_ wedding."

"All right."

"And don't tease him."

"Okay, sister dear." He's finding this far too amusing.

I head back into my office. Seth looks pleadingly in my direction. "Surely, Mr. Knightly, your groomsman understand the importance of having the proper boutonniere!"

When his phone rings, Seth's hand shoots out like it's a lifeline.

"Yes, Mr. King. Of course. I'll be right there."

"Anything wrong?" I ask innocently as he rises.

"Ephraim needs to see me right away. I'm sorry." His expression is such a mixture of relief and regret that I'm hard pressed not to laugh. I manage to restrain myself and just smile and pat his arm.

"It's all right. Go on. We'll finish things up here."

"My apologies," he says turning to L'Arachel– before heading out of the room at a gait approaching a sprint.

L'Arachel looks concerned. "I hope everything's all right."

"I'm sure it's fine," I say and take my seat. "Now where were we?"

"Ah yes! The groomsmen! You simply must look at these designs, Eirika!"

It's not until the end of the day that I see Seth again, waiting for me in the lobby. "What did Ephraim want with you earlier?" I ask with a crooked smile tickling my lips.

He takes my face in his hands and places a kiss on my brow. "Thank you."

"I figured a princess ought to be allowed to rescue her knight every once and again." I wink. Smiling, he takes my hand in his and together we head home.


	15. March

**Day Thirty-Six: March**

March is cold in New York and wet much of the time. Mid-April, when the wedding is scheduled, should be more cheerful. It's been less than a year since... I wonder if dad would think that Seth and I are rushing things. Or would he just be happy for us?

As I look out the widow to see the clouds shatter into raindrops and wash over the skyscrapers, for a moment, I feel like the sky is falling.

"It's not that bad. We can handle this. Don't worry."

I don't turn, but I can feel a smile flit over my features. There's only a few minutes' differences in our ages and yet Ephraim so loves to play the big brother. "Do you know where 'March' comes from?" I ask him. "The name of the month, I mean."

His reflection in the window tilts its head. "No. Not really."

"It comes from 'Mars' the Roman god of war. It was the time of year to begin military campaigns."

He rises from his chair and comes to stand next to me. He puts his arm around my shoulders and smiles at our reflection. "You worry too much."

I shake my head. "It started this way last time too– someone hacking into our system."

"It could be one person. There's no reason to believe it's an organized effort. We'll nip this in the bud."

"Ephraim..."

"We _will_."

I'm so afraid. After dad was killed, even after everything had settled down and the men responsible were dead, I was still scared to do normal things like walking the streets in the evenings– crowded, well-lit streets. A sudden noise would startle me and leave me trembling. I don't know what I'd have done without Seth. The thought that it could all happen again makes my stomach churn and my heart pound. But I need to be brave.

I take a deep breath and imagine myself donning armour. "We should call in Artur and Lute."

"That's exactly what I was thinking," Ephraim says with a nod. "We can ask Gerik to keep an eye on things too. In the meantime I think we should keep this on the QT so we don't tip off our haxor."

I turn to stare at him. "Did you just say _haxor_?"

He shrugs, grinning. "What? You don't speak Leet?"

I roll my eyes. "I'm leaving. I have actual work to do."

"It's for the best," he says. "I need to update my head of security and I'm rather afraid you'd be a distraction."

I sniff and turn to go, but then pause with my hand on the doorknob. "I'll make the call to Artur."

"All right. We're going to handle this."

"I know."

And as I walk out of Ephraim's office I can see myself drawing a sword, ready for battle. If March is the month of war then I'll be ready for it.


	16. Hospital

**A/N:** I apologize for not updating last week. I do like to try to stick to my regular update schedule. Alas my computer was out of commission. Anyway, everything's up and running again so for your amusement (I hope) three more days in the life of Eirika King.

**Day Thirty-Five: Hospital**

"Eirika?"

"Seth, what's going on? I was worried." He's hours late and hasn't been answering his cell. Now that he's finally called, his voice is hoarse and he hardly sounds like himself.

"I need you to pick me up."

"What?"

"I'm at Mount Sinai."

It takes me a moment to understand that he means the hospital– not Egypt.

"I'm all right," he adds before I can ask. My knees feel weak and I sink down onto the couch. "Eirika. _Eirika._"

"Yes." I'm ashamed at the quaver in my voice. A year ago I'd have pulled myself together faster than this.

"I am fine," he says emphatically.

"What happened?"

"I had an accident on the way home. I needed a few stitches." He'd had to stay late at the office. I offered to wait for him– I knew I should have waited– but it's Friday and he told me to go home and relax, that he'd come after dinner. I should have stayed with him. I should have...

"But you're all right?"

"I'm all right."

"I'll be right over."

"Eirika?"

"Yes?"

"Could you bring me some clothes?"

I want to ask him why, but he sounds so tired and it reminds me of the night he was shot. "All right."

I can hear someone speaking in the background and then, "I need to go."

"I love you." It spills out of me and I hate that I sound like a frightened child.

"I love you too," he replies and then he's gone.


	17. Red

**Day Thirty-Four: Red**

I glance at my watch only to find that it's three minutes after midnight. It's officially Saturday. We should be at home, listening to the end credits of a movie roll while our hands wander each other's bodies as a prelude to something better. We should be making our way to my bedroom and making love on my silk sheets, but instead I'm sitting here– _still_ sitting here– in this hospital, waiting, rubbing at the goosebumps on arms because the air conditioner's on too high in here and wondering whether I should remind them all that I have millions of dollars of charitable funds at my disposal.

I hate hospitals. I know most people do, but being here all I can think about is that night...

I've read about it– it's not that our brains starting working faster in a crisis: It's that they start recording in HD; information gets encoded into our memories in greater detail. Somehow, what I remember most about that night is the blood. My father's, Seth's... I can remember the exact tint of it beneath florescent lights, fresh and still warm, or its darker crusty form as it dries, what your hands look like when they're soaked in it.

When I was a child, red was my favourite colour. It isn't anymore.

"Miss King?"

Clutching the T-shirt and jeans that I brought for Seth, I stand up as I hear my name. "Yes?"

"You can see Mr. Knightly now. Come with me." The nurse leads me to a room, separated in two by a curtain. Seth is sitting on a pallette in pale green hospital gown. My footsteps falter as my eyes fix on the scarlet splotches on his pantleg.

There are dark circles under his eyes but he smiles as he sees me. "Eirika."

I want to throw my arms around him, but I'm afraid to touch him so instead I hold out his clothes. As he takes them, I notice that his left forearm is bandaged.

My eyes are rivetted to him as he strips down to his boxers and pulls on the clothes I brought, but the injury to his arm is the only one I spot. He catches me eyeing his blood-stained trousers. "It's not mine."

"What do you mean?"

He heaves a sigh and I can just see the weariness washing over him. "I was–"

"Seth?"

"Hmm?"

I take his right arm. "Why don't you tell me on the way home?" He nods and I lead him out of the hospital room and down to the parking lot where my driver is waiting. I'm sorry to bother him this late, but he's well paid to be on standby at all times. Seth leans back against the upholstered seat and closes his eyes. He looks so pale and I squeeze my eyes shut against the memory of his pallidness when he was shot last year.

"Seth, what happened?" I know he's tired and I don't want to pester him, but I need to know.

"When I left work, I decided to walk part of the way. I wanted to clear my head. There were workers placing a pane of glass into a storefront when a courier on a bike came up onto the sidewalk. He jostled one of the workers and they dropped the pane as I was walking by."

My heart's racing. Even with him here, safe and sound besides me, my stomach lurches. I reach out to take his hand, interlacing my fingers with his, clinging to him, as if holding on to him could keep him forever with me, whole and safe and well. "And then?"

"One of the workers was badly cut. I performed first aid until someone noticed my arm. They took us to the hospital, patched me up. I'd have called sooner but I lost my phone in the hassle and then I had to fill out forms and give a statement about what happened."

"It's all right," I tell him, leaning my head on his shoulder. He squeezes my hand and heaves a sigh.

"When will you have the stitches out?"

"In a couple of weeks."

"How many did you need?"

He shakes his head. "I didn't ask."

"Miss King." I turn as driver addresses me.

"Yes?"

"The road's blocked up ahead." I hadn't even noticed that we'd come to a halt.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm not certain. An accident maybe."

I roll down the window and poke my head outside only to see the lurid flash of emergency lights up ahead. It must be an ambulance or a fire truck because all I see is red.

I shake my head. "A traffic jam at twelve-thirty at night..."

"The city that never sleeps," Seth murmurs, his head lolling against the window, his eyes closed and he looks so desperately tired that I just wish I could sprout wings and fly us back home.

I give his hand a tug. "You should lie down." I scoot over as far as I can to one side. He raises his head to look at me. I pat my lap and after a moment he nods. It's a bit awkward with his long legs, but he manages to lie down on the back seat with his head on my lap. After no more than a minute he's sound asleep.

While we wait for the intersection ahead to be cleared, I run my fingers through Seth's hair. It's russet. I've decided that for certain now.


	18. Temperature

**Day Thirty-Three: Temperature**

Saturday was quiet. Seth slept late and then spent most of the day slumped on the couch alternately reading and channel surfing. He went to bed early and slept in late this morning as well. I needed to go out and had to leave a note for him on the kitchen counter.

When I get back and hang up my coat, the only sound I can hear is the tv in the living room. I wander in and find Seth on the couch again, staring blankly at the television screen. There's stubble covering his face he's still in his pyjamas so I don't think he's showered. On normal days he gets up early to go for a run. By the time I get up he's always fresh and soap-scented.

"Hey. How are you today?"

He smiles wanly. "Tired."

"I guess we won't be getting your things moved in this weekend after all."

"We could still–" He moves to get up from the couch, but I push him back down.

"No. If you're tired you should rest." He looks flushed and I reach out to touch his face. "You're running a temperature."

He grunts. "I'm just a bit warm."

"You have a fever." My heart lurches. "Let me see your stitches."

"Eirika, I'm fine."

"_Seth_."

Finally he sighs and begins unwrapping the gauze around his forearm. I can't help but wince at the sight of the slice in his arm almost six inches long, but the skin around the stiches doesn't look swollen or reddish. Relief washes over me. Just a fever. A normal, everyday, fever.

I press my hand against his forehead and leave it there a moment. "You should go to bed."

He sighs. "I think I will."

Seth plods back into my bedroom– _our_ bedroom if the weekend had gone as we'd planned– and gets into bed while I fetch a glass of water and some Tylenol.

"Take this," I say, handing him the pills and the water. For a moment he seems about to protest, but then he downs the pills and sets the glass on the bedside table. "Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine. I'll just read."

"What about from your apartment? You need extra clothes, don't you?" We'd planned to be over there on Saturday so he hasn't brought the extra things he normally does when he stays over. He hesitates. "I'll go myself, don't worry. I'm not going to send someone else to paw through your underwear drawer."

He smiles. "I don't want to be a bother."

"It's all right," I say, sitting on the edge of the bed and running my fingers through his dishevelled russet mop. "I like fussing over you. Now I'm going to get your clothes whether you want me to or not so is there anything else you want me to bring?"

"The books on my bedside table and..."

"Yes?"

"A deck of cards. There should be one in the top drawer of my dresser."

I smile. "I'll go now– have it out the way."

"Eirika, wait," he says snagging my wrist. "Maybe you should just drive me home."

"Seth, you _are_ home."

He opens his mouth to protest, but then all at once a smile washes over his face. He squeezes my hand and leans back against the pillows. I want to kiss him but I suppose that wouldn't be wise, considering. So, instead, I press my lips against his warm forehead.


	19. Touch

**A/N:** Thank you to those who've been leaving reviews: Trevor X , Midnight Feathers, NewPaladin , Jfate, TheTwilightRurouni, Ayumi-Night Beauty, Starlight Lady, SierralaineWalsh, Darkide, Kitsilver, and of course Saff. (Sorry if I missed anyone!)

This story is rather less ambitious than some of my other fics, so I'm really glad to know that at least a few people have been enjoying it. Thanks. :)

* * *

**Day Thirty-Two: Touch**

"Good morning, Kyle," I say as I step into his office. The door was open and Kyle is looking over some sort of paperwork.

"Miss King." He rises to greet me. "Good morning. What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to let you know that Seth won't be in today. He's sick."

Kyle's brows arch. "Well that's rare. I can't remember the last time Seth had to call in."

"He had a rough weekend." I tell him about the accident and Seth's fever, which seems to be developing into a cold if this morning's sore throat is any indication. I think with everything going on lately– the wedding, the security concerns, Mark's death– his system was just worn out.

"You didn't need to come all this way to tell me in person."

I roll my eyes. Kyle can be as bad as Seth in some ways. "It's only one floor down."

"Are you feeling well, though? If you'll forgive my saying so, you look tired."

I shrug. "I didn't sleep well."

It was strange sleeping next to Seth last night. He tossed and turned and alternately pulled all the blankets onto himself or threw them off. I'd never really thought about what it would be like to sleep in the same bed as someone who was sick. And I feel badly, but in all honesty, part of me wished that I had driven him back to his apartment. I would never have imagined that I could ever shrink away from his touch, but the feel of his clammy skin against my bare arm made me cringe every time his restless body brushed up against me.

By lunchtime I feel so guilty that I just have to call him. He's as hoarse as a raven when he answers the phone.

"How are you?"

"Okay," he croaks.

"Liar. Do you need anything?"

"Could you pick up some cough medicine on the way home?"

I cringe inwardly at the thought of being near someone with a chest cold– and just as quickly feel a pang of guilt. I love Seth. I'm going to marry him. I just need to time to adjust to this whole 'in sickness and in health' notion. "Sure. I'll bring you the newspaper too."

"Thank you. You're being tremendously patient."

"I'm your fiancé, remember? It's part of the job."

"Thank you, Eirika."

When I hang up, I make a note to get the cough medicine and today's paper and I promise myself that no matter how ill he is when I get home, I'll still wrap my arms around him and kiss his clammy forehead.


	20. First Time

**Day Thirty-One: First Time**

My life with Seth has been a series of first times. He gave me my first kiss– unwittingly, I might add, the result of Ephraim's conniving and a sprig of mistletoe the Christmas I turned eighteen. He was my first crush, my first love, though, ironically enough, my _third_ boyfriend. He made our first night together– my first time– something beautiful. But even though I've known him since I was in elementary school, it's the first time I've seen Seth sick.

Kyle was right yesterday: it's rare for Seth to be unwell. On the few occasions he used a sick day I never saw him, so his pale, puffy-eyed face is a new sight. He doesn't complain much, but I know he feels miserable and neither of us slept much last night with his frequent fits of coughing. It's hard to believe it's only Tuesday.

After I drag myself out of bed and finish up in the bathroom, I head to the kitchen and down a cocktail of vitamins, supplemented by Echinacea to boost my immune system. I follow it up by a glass of orange juice and a bagel.

I hear him coughing so I know he's awake and I pop into the bedroom to check on him. "I need to get going in a half hour. Do you want anything for breakfast?"

"Just some juice." His voice is still hoarse. I wish he could just be better. I know it sounds strange, but I miss him– I miss being able to spend time with him. I hope he'll be feeling better by the weekend... Oh no. I just remembered...

"You don't have to come this Friday if you're not feeling up to it," I tell him as I return with a tall glass of orange juice filled up to the brim.

His brow crinkles. "Friday?"

"The ball we were invited to."

"Ah. That. I'm sure I'll be fine by then."

"You don't have to," I tell him, sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing back a stray lock of hair from his face. I draw back as he begins to cough.

"Sorry," he croaks.

"It's okay," I say with a smile, though I'm fighting the urge to dash into the washroom and scrub my hands.

"I'll be fine by Friday. I'm going."

I raise an eyebrow. Well this is a first. I've never seen him actually _want_ to attend one of these events. I tell him so and he smiles.

"It's the first time we've gotten an invitation with my name on it too instead of just 'Eirika King and guest'."

"Is it? I hadn't even noticed. You'd better rest up in that case." He nods and sighs. I know he must be bored. Maybe I can pick him up a new book or a magazine after work. Before I step into my closet to pick out my outfit for work, I dart into the bathroom to wash my hands. Again.


	21. Fake

**Day Thirty: Fake**

"You really should get back to bed."

"I'm _fine_."

"_Seth_."

He's faking. I see his jaw clench and I can tell he's stifling a cough as he sits there on the floor of his "office." Several wooden rectangles of various sizes are laid out on the floor in front of him as well as a small plastic bag containing nails, screws, an allen wrench, and other bits and pieces. The desk was delivered last week and he'd been planning to put it together on the weekend. We'd been planning a lot of things for last weekend.

"You're still sick."

"I'm tired of sitting in bed reading or playing cards or checking my email."

"Can't you do something a little less strenuous than assembling furniture, though?"

"This isn't strenuous," he insists– and this time he can't keep from coughing.

I raise an eyebrow. He stares me down.

"Fine," I say and march into the kitchen, tossing the magazines I'd bought for him onto the counter. A few minutes later, as I'm hanging up my work clothes, I hear him in the kitchen. That's the cutlery drawer he's opening. I walk in to catch him taking cough medicine.

For a moment neither of us speaks. My cook will be over in a short while to make us dinner and I'd rather we not be in the middle of an argument when she arrives, but even so... I wish he would be honest with me and that he'd taken proper care of himself instead of carrying on with this male machismo.

"Eirika, I'm thirty-one years old. I promise you I've survived a cold before."

I resist the urge to cross my arms. "I just want to know that you're resting while I'm out all day."

"I _have_ been resting. That's why I need to actually be doing something today– I'm getting cabin fever. Look we can watch a movie after supper, all right?"

"Okay. But stay home one more day."

"I–" He looks like he's about to argue but then he breaks off and nods.

And just like that we're friends again and while we wait for dinner we pour over our DVD collection and pick out something to curl up on the couch and watch together.


	22. Redemption

**Day Twenty-Nine: Redemption**

"As you can see," Lute says pointing to lines of code, "the hacker has tried to cover his cover his tracks." I actually can't see that at all, but I nod and take her word for it. "Artur and I have managed to trace it back to the source, but the point of origin seems to have changed several times."

She adjusts her glasses and peers intently at the computer screen– which to me looks like it's filled with gibberish. Lute and her partner Artur helped us after the attack last year. If it weren't for them, we'd never have found out that our system had been breached from the _inside_. They were the ones who told us that Orson, one of our longstanding security officers, had sold us out.

"There have been breaches originating in several cities, Los Angeles, Chicago, and several time from Paris, France."

"France? Are you certain?"

"Of course. Whoever he is, he's an amateur compared to _me_."

I wish Artur had come. He's... easier to speak to. Artur isn't so much a hacker as an anti-hacker; he's made it his life's work to track down dangerous hackers, the ones who damage systems or steal private data, or those who write viruses. Lute, on the other hand, is a hacker, but a benign one, the type who'll hack into a system purely out of curiosity. Artur makes sure she has plenty of useful work to occupy herself with.

"Here's the interesting thing, though..." She reaches over to the keyboard and types so rapidly I'm surprised her fingers don't cramp up. "The first system breach happened from within this very building."

"What?" I feel queasy at the thought. If we have another turncoat on our hands...

"Do you have any employees that have been working off site for the past two weeks?"

I shake my head. "Not that I know of– France isn't a usual destination for us– but I'd need to have someone check expense accounts to be sure."

"If you log me into your system I can do it right now."

"All right."

Ephraim and I, along with other senior members of the company, change our passwords on a weekly basis. I've had to develop a system to create passwords. I use the first (long) word of whatever novel or magazine I've been reading, followed by the number of pages. I type in my login and my password of the week: !Redemption222. I feel as if it means something, as if it's no coincidence. Sometimes I wonder if things could have been different last time, whether, if I'd done things differently, dad might still be alive...

I offer Lute my seat behind the keyboard and she begins clacking away at the keys. In a few moments she's pulled up our expense accounts and is searching through them for the information we need. "Nothing," she says and I release a breath I hadn't known I was holding. What was going on two weeks ago anyway? Things have been so crazed of late that it's all become a blur.

"When exactly was the first time it happened?"

"February twentieth at four-forty-three p.m.," Lute replies, her fingers still flying over the keyboard.

I pull out my Blackberry and look up my schedule, flipping to last month. Monday the twentieth... "That's the day we had the meeting with Mr. Pablo from Carcino Ltd." Lute's typing falters. "You said some of the attacks originated in Los Angeles and Chicago?"

"Yes."

"Carcino has offices there. And they also do business with Rausten Co., which has its head office in Paris."

"A stunning coincidence," Lute comments and her fingers are flitting over the keyboard once more. I'm afraid to ask exactly what she's up to.

I shift from one foot to the other. I hate feeling this way, irresolute, helpless like a little girl. But I'm not. I'm a chief officer of this company and I will not allow it to come under attack again. "I have contacts in Rausten. I'm going to find out what I can from them."

Lute nods, never taking her eyes from the screen. "Give us a day or two and we'll have more information on your hacker's activities."

"You think you'll be able to keep tracking him?"

Lute pauses to glace over her shoulder at me, eyebrows raised. "Computers are today what magic was to people in the Middle Ages. And I'm a master magician."

She goes back typing and I have to smile. Lute is confident in her abilities, but from what I know of her, there's good reason for it.

I suppose I'll have to go Paris. I don't want to deal with this matter over the phone. I hate to leave now when things are so busy, but I need to do this. Seth is getting better. He slept through the night and seemed much more himself this morning. I think of Seth at home (hopefully) resting and I know I need to do this. I want to redeem myself. This time, I don't want to be the princess is need of rescuing. I want to be able to protect those I love and the company my father built and left to us. This time I want to make things turn out right.


	23. Shower

**Day Twenty-Eight: Shower**

They announced light showers for today– not the downpour we're getting now. As the raindrops patter against our window, Seth picks at nearly invisible bits of lint on the sleeve of his tux. I've always loved how he looks in a tuxedo; I used to admire him at parties when he was there as part of the security staff. Now he's my date. Hence his sudden case of nerves I suppose. I put my hand over his to still his fidgeting, and smile at him.

"Everything will be fine," I tell him. "I'll have a cocktail, you have a scotch; we'll eat some hors d'oeuvres and chat about the weather and the clean water project the evening is funding... and then we'll drive you home. It'll be fine."

"I know."

I wish he could stay over tonight like he usually does on the weekend. Even though it's Friday he needs to check on things at his apartment– make sure nothing in his refrigerator has evolved into a sentient life form while he was staying at my place with his cold.

"How was your day?"

He groans and squeezes his eyes shut.

"Oh dear. I'm sorry I asked." I pat him on shoulder."I was thinking... Why don't we go up to the cottage this weekend? We can get your stuff some other time. A couple of days away would be nice, don't you think?"

"But the weather–"

I press my fingers to his lips. "We can stay inside and read or just watch movies. Anything. I just want to spend some time together before my trip." It's already arranged. I'll be leaving for France next Friday. I'd expected the month before our wedding to be hectic, but not like this. It's like a shower of ill luck. How many things can go wrong all at once?

"All right," he says, putting his arm around me.

I lean my head against his shoulder. "We can light the fireplace," I whisper in his ear. His fingers trace slow circles on my arm and I find myself wishing we didn't have to attend this dinner at all, that we could go home and do something far more _interesting_. It's been over a week since we've made love– the longest time since we started dating– and I'm filled with a restless desire to run my hands through his hair, to undo the buttons of his shirt one at a time and press my lips against his skin.

The rain is coming down in torrents as we pull up to the convention centre where the gala is being held. The driver opens the door on Seth's side, holding an umbrella that he then hands to Seth– who's looking more nervous than ever, poor dear. I step out of the car under the cover of the umbrella clutched in Seth's hand and take hold of his arm. He looks dazed as a small cluster of photographers, huddled beneath the awning over the entrance, snap a few hasty photographs.

We head in and begin mingling and trying to make our way to the bar. Seth is polite but reserved as I greet acquaintances, and he radiates tension– at least to me. To others he always looks cool and collected, but I recognise the stiffness of his stance, the set of his jaw. I've walked this world of galas and socialites and paparazzi all my life, while Seth has only ever skirted the edges, always watching but always outside– and glad of it. Anyone who thinks that he wanted my wealth, my lifestyle, is quite sadly misinformed.

After the first half hour (and a glass of scotch, sipped while I made small talk about the NASDAQ with a pair of businessmen visiting from the Los Angeles) he seems more relaxed. I'm enjoying a cosmopolitan, relishing the way the light shines through the scarlet liquid and thinking we just might be able to have a nice evening after all when something unexpected happens.

"Eirika! Why hello there!"

"Joshua? I didn't know you were in town."

"I never could say no to a party." He grins in that roguish manner that so many of my friends find charming. Since his mother passed away he's been head of Jehanna Enterprises out in California, but his hair is still long and I can see the tail end of his dragon tattoo poking out from under the cuff of his sleeve. Even in a suit he looks more like a rockstar than a businessman.

"Seth, this is Joshua Swaine, head of Jehanna Enterprises."

"Nice to finally meet you. I've been hearing about you for such a long while," Joshua says as they shake hands. "Incidentally, I think the two of you have met my girlfriend N–"

"Natasha?"

It's only as Seth says it that I fully realize that the woman coming to join Joshua is Seth's ex. I haven't seen her in six or seven years. "Seth, Miss King... Hello."

Seth looks absolutely shocked and I don't dare wonder what my own expression must be. For a moment the four of us stand there in utter silence. I have an image of a sign hanging over our heads with the word "awkward" written in huge red letters.

I clear my throat. "'Eirika' is fine,"I say, trying to smile. Is it terrible that I feel so uncomfortable, that I'm wondering what Seth's thinking, whether he's remembering what she looks like under that gown, what sort of sounds she made when they– I take a gulp of my cosmopolitan and try to banish that line of thought.

Joshua seems to be the only one not utterly mortified. He's smiling, damn him. "I figured we'd run into each other eventually. Better to get this little reunion out of the way sooner rather than later, don't you think?"

I roll my eyes. "Knowing you I'm surprised you didn't just flip a coin."

"To be honest... I did," he says with a shrug. "Better now than at your wedding though, right?"

I stifle a groan. I really haven't anything against Natasha, but the idea of having Seth's ex-girlfriend at our _wedding_...

"Actually I won't be able to make it," Natasha says. "I'm attending a medical conference that whole weekend. I do wish you both the best," she says, smiling. Relief sweeps through me and I feel hugely grateful to her.

"Thank you. So... how did you two meet?"

Joshua grins. "I was at a benefit for the University of California, San Francisco Medical Center and just happened to run into this splendid doctor who worked there."

Natasha's expression as she looks at him is full of amusement and obvious affection and I'm grateful to see her so attached to Joshua, if only for rather selfish reasons. "I only agreed to a date the first time because I lost a wager to him." In my mind it's unfathomable that anyone could have Seth and not want to keep him forever, but I'm just as happy that it's not the case.

I'm relieved when another pair of guests comes over to talk to Joshua. We excuse ourselves as he introduces Natasha to them. Seth sags with relief once we're away from them.

After the speeches about the project and the amount of money raised tonight and how many new wells that will translate to in water-starved countries, Seth and I make a discreet exit. It's still pouring and he struggles with the umbrella. Once we're in the car he groans and rubs his temples.

"You have a headache?"

"Mmm."

"Miss King?" I lean forward as the driver addresses me. "Are we headed to your home this evening or to Mister Knightly's?"

"Mine," I reply.

"Eirika," Seth says in a low tone, "I'm too tired to–"

"Shh. I know. I just want you there with me." He nods and then closes his eyes and sighs. "I can't believe we ran into Natasha."

A mirthless laugh slips out of him. "When it rains it pours."


	24. Picture

**Day Twenty-Seven: Picture**

"Now wait a minute. Does a flush beat a straight or is it the other way around?"

I'm so glad we came out here. It's been so relaxing, and after the hectic few weeks we've had (not to mention the hectic weeks ahead), it's a welcome change to be able to spend time together without any distractions. Though why Seth decided to teach me to play poker of all things is a mystery

"Flush beats a straight," he replies, his left arm, wound about my waist, giving me a squeeze.

I lean back against his chest and enjoy the feel of his warmth seeping into me, closer and more comforting than the heat from the crackling fire in front of us. We have blankets and pillows heaped around us for later, but for now I'm content to sit in his arms.

"No peeking," I warn as I reach over his leg to uncover my face-down cards. Seven card stud is what he called it. "Okay, hit me."

He chuckles. "That's for blackjack, darling," he says, nuzzling against my neck.

"Oh. Well... deal then."

He deals out the final card face down. He might have a straight. I've got three kings. We're not placing bets, just going through the motions. He keeps his cards on the left, I, on the right so I don't accidentally brush over his stitches– they're still sore, like a large bruise, he said. It would be easier to play if we were facing each other, but I'm far too content just now to be practical.

"What do you have?" I ask him.

A sly smile curves his lips and for a moment I'm convinced he has a straight, but when he turns over his cards there's nothing but a pair of twos. I flip over mine with my trio of kings. "So I win?"

"You do. You're doing well. In no time at all we can graduate you to strip poker."

I laugh at this. "I knew you had to have some hidden agenda."

"Who said it was hidden?" His arms pull me close against him and he presses kisses along my jaw.

I sigh, utterly content, and reach for his hands, interlacing our fingers. Everything is so right, so perfect. It's hard to believe how differently it could have turned out. "Seth?"

"Hmm?"

"Is this how you pictured your life?"

A soft laugh. "Certainly not." I turn to see his expression. He smiles at me. "I never thought I could have _you_, my darling."

"So what _did_ you imagine?"

I feel his shoulders shrug against my back. "I assumed I would eventually find... someone... and marry her. Not Natasha," he adds and I flush because her name did cross my mind. "I don't think either of us had that expectation. Neither one of us was willing to give up our careers."

I tilt my head to lean against his shoulder. Seth's job is his whole life; I know that. He's got no family of his own any longer, so my father took him under his wing and made sure he would have a place with our family. When we first started seeing each other, Seth had this silly idea in his head that Ephraim would fire him– but he was willing to take that risk even if, in his own mind anyway, it meant risking everything.

"I can't believe she's with Joshua," I say with a laugh. "Could she have picked anyone more different than you?"

"Short of Forde, probably not."

His breath is hot against my cheek and I turn and kiss him. I think it's about time we put these blankets to good use.


	25. Backyard

**Day Twenty-Six: Backyard**

"Do you see the three stars there that form a triangle?" Seth, says, pointing up at the night sky.

"I... No I– Wait, yes. Yes, I see it."

"Those three are part of Cassiopeia." A thrill rushes through me and I can't help but laugh.

I lean against the railing of the cottage's back porch, smiling. "I've never been able to spot a constellation before." I glance over at him. Awash in moonlight, Seth looks like something out of a storybook: a forest spirit who's taken on human form to woo a mortal woman, but who'll shortly return to his native shape– perhaps a silver-winged hawk or a fleet-footed wolf– and disappear into the woods. "How do you know so much? Was it your dad?"

He nods. "When my mother was still alive, we used to go camping. He loved to talk about the stars. He saw the lunar landing when it was first broadcast and hated it."

"What? Why?"

"He said it took all the mystery out of it."

I'm surprised because it seems such a romantic way of seeing things and I never imagined Seth's father as being anything but practical, much like Seth himself. But then Seth can be so wonderfully _im_practical about certain things that I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.

"I wish we could stay longer. It's so beautiful."

"It was a good idea to come up here," he says and puts his arm around my shoulders.

I lean my head against him. "In less than a month we'll be married..."

He chuckles. "And I'll officially be your trophy husband."

My fingers dart under his jacket and reach for that spot along his ribs where he's ticklish. He jumps and snags my hand. I was thrilled to discover that even Seth has a weakness.

Grinning, I lean into him and hug him. His arms wind themselves around me and I'm warm even in the nippy spring air.


	26. Best Friend

**A/N**: This chapter is dedicated to saffiremoon21, whose fic Realization (chapter 18 to be precise) helped me get a start on this chapter, which had me stumped for a while.

**Day Twenty-Five: Best Friend**

I'm late for my lunch with Tana. I had to call her and ask her to order some sort of pasta and a side salad. When I finally get there she's reading a book– a romance novel judging by the studly shirtless male on the cover.

"Sorry I'm late."

"It's all right. I ordered for you."

"How can you read these things?" I say, playfully snatching at the book before she can stash it in her bag.

"How can _you_ read those trashy thrillers you like?" Tana shoots back, arms crossed and glowering.

"Yes but romance novels..."

"They're good!"

"They're drivel."

"Says the girl whose life is the plot of a romance novel," Tana retorts, rolling her eyes.

"What?"

She takes back the book and then holds it up as if she were reading the back cover. "A young heiress and the man charged with protecting her. For years they've been separated by circumstance, but when–"

"Okay, okay. Enough."

The waiter arrives with our food and it isn't until we've eaten a few bites that I speak again. "Seth isn't perfect, you know. He has faults and bad habits like anyone."

"Maybe, but he's perfect _for you_." She heaves a sigh and all at once the humour is gone from her features and she looks so forlorn that I'm worried.

"Tana?" I say, reaching across the table to place my hand over hers.

"It's... No, it's nothing."

"Tana, we've told each other everything since we were kids, right? Come on. What is it? You can tell me."

She shakes her head. "Not when it's about your _brother_."

"Did he do something?" I ask gently. Tana's right: it pains me to ask. I love Ephraim dearly. But I love Tana too, almost like a sister, and I hate to see either of them unhappy. I know they've gone out a few times, but I'm not sure whether they're officially seeing one another or not.

Tana shakes her head. "No, nothing like that. It's just... he's been hot and cold for a while now and I... I got a letter from Cormag.

"Oh. I see." She dated Cormag in college. He was a few years older and on leave from the Airforce to study engineering. He broke it off when he returned to the service and was shipped out to the Middle East. "What did he say?"

"Do you remember his brother, Glen?"

"Vaguely."

"He was killed in action last year."

"Oh! I– That's awful!"

"He says he's thinking of leaving the Airforce. His tour is almost over– he'll be back in less than a month. And he wants to see me."

I take a few bites of my fettuccine while I let it all sink in. I'm not certain how my brother feels about Tana. I think maybe Ephraim isn't certain either. He's taken on so much this past year. He puts on a such a brave front that no one can guess how hard it's been for him. But I know. I always know.

"Talk to him. Ephraim would never purposefully hurt you. The way things have been of late, though... Just... talk to him."

Tana smiles. "I think I will. Thanks. Now," she drawls, "let's talk about more important things– like your wedding!"

"That reminds me... I need to cancel our dinner on Friday– I'll be in France."

"W-what?"

I shake my head. "I had to go at the last minute for some company business."

"How long?"

"A week. I had to be back for Seth's birthday after all."

"Yeah," Tana says as she's tapping frantically at her blackberry's touchscreen. "It's on the... sixth, right?"

"Yes."

"And the next week I have a trip to London. And the week after that is your wedding." She huffs in apparent frustration and I tilt my head and peer at her.

"Is something wrong?"

"What about Thursday?"

"For what?"

"Dinner."

"But we just had lunch." I watch as her stylus is flying. I've never seen anyone who can text as fast as Tana– or in as cryptic a form of English for that matter.

"Are you free or not?"

I shake my head. "I'll probably have to work late on Thursday to make sure everything's in order before my trip."

"What about Wednesday then?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Is there something I should know about?"

Tana's eyes shoot up from her Blackberry to my face. "No. Nothing. Why?"

"You're oddly adamant about dinner."

"Can you do Wednesday or not?"

"I can do Wednesday." She's biting her lip and tapping out messages again. In another era she could've been a telegraph operator. "Should I be expecting company?"

"Eat your pasta before it gets cold," she says and that's the end of that conversation.


	27. Taste

**Day Twenty Four: Taste**

It's as unnatural to see Gerik in a suit as it is natural to see Seth in one. It's not that it doesn't fit– it's a handsome suit and well-tailored, but it's just not him somehow. Leaning back in his chair, his tie just a tad crooked, that scar on his face, Gerik is an oddity at La Rose Argentée. Nor does fine French cuisine seem to suit him.

"Are you sure you don't want to try some?" Ephraim asks, his lips twitching as he attempts not to smile.

Gerik eyes our plates with evident distaste. "No thanks."

"Escargot are a delicacy."

"That might be so, but no matter how you cut it, it's still snails."

Ephraim laughs. "In butter."

"I'm quite happy with my steak, Mr. King."

"All right, Gerik. Now... what do you have to show us?"

At the risk of developing indigestion, we decided to have this meeting over lunch. It should cause fewer raised eyebrows around the office and we do want to keep things quiet for the present. Gerik nods and passes an envelope over to us. Ephraim pulls out the photos and begins to flip through them with an air of nonchalance as if her were looking at nothing more than a friend's rather dull vacation photos. He passes them to me and I do the same. It takes more than a little effort to school my features.

Pablo and another man, one who looks very much like someone who ought to be dead.

"Is it him?" I whisper.

Gerik shakes his head. "We don't have absolute confirmation, but unless the man's got a twin then it's him."

"Riev," Ephraim grumbles, steepling his fingers.

"Yeah."

My heart is racing and I feel lightheaded. I can't do it all over again. I glance up as, beneath the table, Ephraim squeezes my hand. I smile– wanly, I know– and nod. I turn to Gerik, summoning what courage I have. "Do you think he has a vendetta against our company?"

"Hard to say. It may be he's still trying to get back at Rausten and he's just taking advantage of the instability in your own affairs. Look, we're keeping tabs on the both of them. Tethys and Marisa know what they're doing and I'll be heading back out myself. Nothing like a little fieldwork to liven up your day." He winks.

I shake my head. "Tracking arms dealers isn't what I'd call a good time."

"You like snacking on snails and I enjoy well-paid risk-taking. Just a matter of taste, Miss King." When Gerik grins he reminds me of nothing so much as a tiger.


	28. Leather

**Day Twenty-Three: Leather**

"Wednesday is a weird night to be clubbing."

"What?" Tana shouts back.

A steady bass beat blares from the club's speakers and thrums in my ribcage. I roll my eyes and slide over the padded bench until I'm next to Tana. "I _said_, Wednesday is a weird night to be clubbing."

"You're the one who decided to go traipsing all over Europe at the last minute."

"I didn't _know_ you were planning a bachelorette party."

"It was supposed to be a surprise. That was the whole point."

I shouldn't complain. Tana and three of our mutual girlfriends all rearranged their schedules for this. They've disappeared to the washroom and it's the first chance I've gotten to talk to Tana. We've danced a little and are having drinks now but it's strange knowing I still have to get up early tomorrow morning for work.

"Just promise me you didn't plan anything embarrassing."

"Don't worry," Tana says. "I had to cancel the studly exotic dancer when you rescheduled."

"Tana!"

"I'm just kidding." She's grinning, clearly enjoying this far far too much.

"You realize, of course, that I'll get even someday."

Tana sighs. "The way my luck is going you may never get the chance."

She looks so down and I'm trying to think of something to say to cheer her up when the others come back. Tana puts on a smile immediately as if nothing were bothering her at all. "I think," she announces, standing up and rifling through her purse, "that this would be the perfect time for presents."

"What?"

Tana winks and I know I'm in trouble.

**ooo**

As I close the door behind me, I can't help but think how glad I am to be home. It's only midnight– a little earlier even– but I just feel so _tired_. Still... it was worth it. I hang up my jacket and head towards my room with my purse and a bag full of "presents," ready to tumble into bed. I'm a little surprised when I find Seth sitting up in bed, reading.

"Eirika," he says, setting down his book. It's hours past his normal bedtime.

"I thought you'd be asleep. Were you waiting up for me?"

"I was curious how late you'd be out."

"Wanted to make sure I didn't come home with an exotic dancer?"

"Something like that," he says, smiling. He's eyeing the bag and I can feel myself flushing. "Party favours?"

"Something like that." I laugh nervously. He raises an eyebrow. "The girls decided to have a little fun with the whole thing."

"Eirika."

"Yes?"

"You're blushing."

"Well... yes."

He tilts his head. "Is there another man in bag?"

I chuckle. "No. No, it's just that... Oh here," I say handing it over to him. "It's mostly for you anyway."

His brow creases. He reaches into the bag and the first thing he pulls out is a leather harness with six straps and a number of buckles. He holds it up in front of him, peering at it uncertainly and then glances back into the bag. "Are we getting a dog?" he asks, pulling out a leather collar with polished silver buckles and a name tag.

"Not exactly."

He raises an eyebrow and looks from the collar to me and then back to the collar. He inspects the name tag... which is engraved with his name. "Ah," he says finally. Brave man that he is, he reaches into the bag for a third time and pulls out a much smaller collection of leather straps and silver snaps. He clears his throat and doesn't quite look up as he says, "Do I want to know what this if for?"

"Probably not."

"Ah. I see." He clears his throat. "You know," he says after a few moments, "leather... chafes."

I laugh and crawl onto the bed next to him and hug him. "Well we can't have that," I say. He kisses the top of my head, smiling (with relief, I can't help but think). We turn out the light and I quite happily go to sleep in my clothes.


	29. Clothes

**Day Twenty-Two: Clothes**

I can hardly believe it's already Thursday night. Tomorrow morning I'll be leaving for France. With the time difference, it'll already be evening there when I arrive.

My suitcase lies open on the bed. Seth is also stretched out on the bed, watching me as I go back and forth between my walk-in closet and the suitcase. He's so quiet, and the look on his face is so serious, that I know he's nervous about my trip, even though he won't admit it. Logically I know– we both know– that there's nothing to worry about, that I don't need protection at every instant, but after everything that's happened and everything that's _been_ happening, logic isn't as reassuring as it once was. But it's nice to know that Seth worries too, that I'm not the only one affected by what happened last year and by the knowledge of what may be going on now.

"I'll call as soon as I get there," I tell him as I fold a pair of slacks and place them in my suitcase. He only nods. "I'll have to take a train out of Paris to L'Arachel's."

L'Arachel may run a business of her own, but she's the sole heir to Rausten Co. A meeting with her is the perfect subterfuge. It's only normal that I meet with my wedding planner after all; there's no reason to believe what we'll really be discussing is the company's ties with Carcino Ltd.

"And I had to reschedule the meeting with the lawyers to the twenty-sixth." A grunt this time. Neither of us is looking forward to that meeting. The prenup.

I can feel Seth's eyes on me as I walk into the closet again to pick out a few blouses. "I'll have to see some other people while I'm there, just to make sure it looks like a regular trip." He already knows all this, but I feel the need to fill the silence. Why won't he just say something? Would it be so hard to admit that he's worried, that he's fretting about my trip? "I'll be back in a week," I continue, emerging with my chosen blouses. "And then we'll celebrate your birthday."

"Nothing too extravagant, I trust."

I stop and look up. "Oh. Should I cancel the fireworks then?" I wink. He smiles.

After a few more minutes my suitcase is packed and I set it down in the corner. "Are you done now?" Seth asks.

"I just need to get a few more things."

"You are only going for a week?" he asks, incredulity plain on his features.

I sniff. "Clothes are not optional."

It takes me another ten minutes to gather the other things I'll need. After that's done I'm finished. "All right," I tell him. "I'm all yours now."

He springs off the bed and crosses the room to kiss me. He surprises me when he scoops me up and carries me to the bed, pausing to turn down the covers with one hand, before setting me down. He kisses me– and nothing else– until we're both breathless. The way he'd been watching me, I'd expected ardour and urgency, not this delightful languor and gallantry.

He kisses me as if we have all the time world, as if we don't need to rise before the crack of dawn, as if we would never be parted. He begins unbuttoning my blouse with practiced ease and I wonder if he can feel my heart racing beneath his hands. His fingers move to rake through my hair, trail down my cheek, my throat. And then, more intimate caresses.

I've changed my mind. Who needs clothes?


	30. France

**Day Twenty-One: France**

It's been years since I've been in France. I studied the language for a while in my teens and dad took us on vacation sometimes in the summer. I only wish I could come here with Seth, though I'm not sure he'd appreciate it in quite the same way; he'd probably be more interested in touring World War I sites than enjoying the romance of Paris.

It really shouldn't take long to get from the airport to the train station, but somehow we've managed to get stuck in traffic. You'd think I was back home in New York.

"It looks like the road is blocked, Madame," my driver announces finally.

"Never mind. I'll walk the rest of the way. It's not that far."

I have to assure him that I'll be fine and finally he helps me get my things out of the trunk and I begin making my way through the city streets, wheeling my suitcase behind me, my carry-on bags, hooked around the handle. It's difficult to resist the urge to stop and admire the gorgeous old buildings.

Though the driver gave me directions, it's not long before I get turned around and need to ask someone. I hail a gentleman who looks like he knows where he's headed. "Pardon, monsieur. Pourriez-vous me dire comment me rendre à la guerre?"

He stops and glowers at me before turning on his heel and mumbling something about American tourists. I'm puzzled. I used the second person plural in order to be polite, so I can't imagine why he'd be offended...

"Madame," I begin trying again, "saviez-vous où est la guerre?"

She looks at me like I've lost my mind and hurriedly crosses the street.

I keep walking for another minute or so before I get up the nerve to try for a third time. "Excusez-moi, monsieur," I say, hailing a middle-aged man in a handsome suit, "pourriez-vous me dire comment me rendre à la guerre."

He raises an eyebrow and stares at me. "La guerre? Mademoiselle, you speak English?"

"Yes. Yes I do. I'm trying to find the train station, but no one seems to be able to help me."

At this he laughs and quickly tries to cover by coughing. "I am sorry," he says. "I understand now. You are looking for 'la gare'."

I feel as if all the blood in my body is running into my cheeks. If 'gare' is 'train station' then 'guerre' must be... "Yes, thank you," I squeak as I realize I've been walking around Paris asking people if they know where I can find the war.

As I note his directions and then begin making my way towards the station, I decide that Ephraim must never, ever hear of this.

* * *

**A/N:** As a point of interest, this did in fact happen to someone I know. ;D


	31. Apart

**Day Twenty: Apart**

From Paris I took one of the high speed trains to the town where L'Arachel's family estate is nestled in a patch of woods planted by her forebears to keep the chateau private. As it so happened, L'Arachel was delayed in Amsterdam and won't be back until tomorrow afternoon. In any case, by the time I got settled in, it was eleven and even though my body believed it to be six p.m., I was ready for a nap at the very least. I called Seth's cell and got his voicemail. I had meant to call back later but after that, my nap turned into an entire night's sleep.

And now, ever since this morning, I've been restless. I've spent these idle hours just waiting to call him, to hear his voice. I feel like an addict waiting for a hit, waiting for that high, that euphoria I feel when I'm with him.

He gets up early, but there's not much point in calling when he's off jogging or in the shower or at the grocery store, or whatever he plans to do this Saturday. So waiting until lunchtime seems safest... which for me, five hours ahead, means evening. L'Arachel still isn't back, and it's puzzling, but as the digital display on my cell's clock reforms itself into 5:00, I press the speed dial and wait, barely breathing, for Seth to pick up. _Oh please, please answer this time!_

"Eirika?"

"Seth!"

"I'm sorry I missed your call– I was in the shower."

"I wanted to call back but I fell asleep."

"You needed your rest," he says and the warmth in his voice makes my chest clench. I want to reach out across the ocean and hold him close to me. Instead, I just listen to the sound of his breathing over the phoneline.

"I miss you," I say finally.

"I miss you too. How was your day?"

"Dull," I reply, sitting down on the bed and propping up a pillow behind me. "L'Arachel's not back yet so I don't have any news."

"I see."

"What about you? Did they take your stitches out?"

"Yes, yesterday. I'm as good as new."

"Good. I'm glad. So what are you doing today?"

"I thought I'd finish packing my books."

I groan. "I'd almost forgotten." We still haven't brought over the rest of his things. There's still time, though– two weeks before the lease runs out. Our plans were really thrown by Seth's accident and I've been distracted by the problems with Carcino. "What about the carpenters?"

"They'll be in tomorrow to finish the book cases." He'll have custom-made shelving around his office. It'll be very handsome even if he does have a desk that came out of a cardboard box. "Oh and we received three more RSVPs."

"From who?"

Seth clears his throat. "I haven't opened them." I have to stifle a laugh. I can just see him raking his fingers through his hair as he says it. Poor dear.

"Don't tell me my head of security is afraid to open his own mail."

"I'd rather not know."

"Forewarned is forearmed," I quip.

He sniffs. "Ignorance is bliss, darling."

"Mmm. I'm almost certain the bliss is supposed to come _after_ the wedding."

A rolling sort of groan pours out of his chest and even over the phone it makes me ache for him. Leaning back against the headboard of the queen-sized bed in which I'll be sleeping alone tonight, I sigh. "Next time I travel I need to come up with an excuse to bring my head of security along."

"I'd approve of such a plan."

I chuckle. "I thought you would." I clutch the phone instead of his hand and close my eyes to imagine him. "Seth, what are you wearing?"

"What am I... wearing?"

"Yes. You're not naked, are you?" Though that makes a rather pleasant image as well.

"No! I– Jeans. And a shirt."

"What shirt?"

"A white T-shirt."

I smile. Yes I can see him perfectly now. "It's sunny here."

"It's raining here. Eirika, are you all right?"

I nod and then realize he can't see me. "I'm fine. It's just strange to be so far away." It's the first time I've been so far since we've been together. "I love you," I whisper into the phone.

"I love you too." My heart swells and it's amazing how such simple words can bridge such distance.


	32. Lovers

**Day Nineteen: Lovers**

As I walk the halls of L'Arachel's chateau, pausing in a grand dining hall with a high ceiling and tall windows, I catch myself twisting my engagement ring around my finger. I stop and hold out my hand to admire the ring as the diamond glints in the sunlight that pours into the room. The stone is smaller than what I'd have received if I'd married one of my peers, someone like Innes or Joshua, but I know Seth spent what was, for him, a small fortune on it, and I love the ring, and him, dearly for it. It's a solitaire with a plain gold band– classic, and very much the sort of thing Seth would choose.

I'm happy to be able to call him my fiancé and soon, husband. 'Boyfriend' sounds too prosaic and 'lover' too grandiose for our day-to-day life. But as I crane my neck to peer at the frescoed ceiling (scenes from the tale of Cupid and Psyche, if I'm not mistaken), I can't but think that here, in a place like this, 'lovers' would be better suited.

A long oak table dominates the room, where once banquets would have been held. There's a hearth at each end, encased in ornamented oak and marble, with the family's coat of arms hanging above. In this world I would have been something else entirely– a duchess perhaps or a baroness. And Seth... Seth would have been my loyal retainer– or better yet, my knight! It's easy to imagine him in shining armour on a white horse, a sword at his side and a lance in his hand.

I walk on through the far doorway into a ballroom, where my footsteps echo on the recently restored parquet flooring. I imagine dancing with him. I'd be wearing one of those complicated dresses you see in movies, the ones made of silk and lace that take an hour to put on. When the music stopped we would sneak out into the gardens and embrace in the moonlight, and then, hidden away by the drapings of a curtained bed, we'd make love on silken sheets.

My idle fantasy melts away as I hear approaching footsteps. I return to the dining hall and see L'Arachel.

"Ah Eirika! It's so good to see you," she says, her voice echoing through the long hall. "My staff said you were exploring the chateau."

"I was curious. I've never stayed in a castle before."

"It is a glorious edifice, full of history. My family has taken great pains to keep it in good order."

"It's lovely."

"Now," she says, hooking her arm around mine, her face full of good humour, something she seems to have a limitless supply of, "what can I do for you? You said something about Carcino..."

I nod and try to steel myself; just the thought of what's going on is enough to send my stomach roiling. "Can we speak somewhere privately?"

"Of course."

I follow L'Arachel back into the real world, trailing fantasies like a tattered train on a wedding gown.


	33. Moon

**Day Eighteen: Moon**

"Tu es dans la lune, Eirika."

"What?" I start at L'Arachel's words. I was brooding over what I've learned about Carcino Ltd. and Pablo in particular. Rausten has had dealings with them for years, but recently L'Arachel's family has heard rumours that suggest conflict within the Carcino's ranks. There have been disputes among the board members, especially between Pablo and one of Carcino's founding members, Klimt.

"You're in the moon, it means. Your head is in the clouds, I think is how you say it in English."

"Oh. Yes," I say, my cheeks feeling warm. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking of... what we talked about."

She pats my hand. "All will be well." She has a slight French accent and there's a noticeable difference in the cadence of her speech, but the effect is charming and I do appreciate her concern. "You should be thinking of your wedding, ma chère– et non pas des imbéciles à Carcino."

"Tu a raison. Je le sais." I know she's right and say so. I _should_ be thinking about my wedding and not fretting about Carcino. We have so many allies– our friends at Frelia, Gerik's team, Lute and Artur. And others as well. In fact L'Arachel is expecting a source of hers this very evening.

I start as the door swings open rather violently. I look to the doorway only to find a man in a slick suit and sunglasses with longish brown hair. "Your highness," he says with a mock bow and a mirthless laugh.

L'Arachel sniffs. "Eirika," she says, turning to me, "this is Rennac."

"It's nice to meet you," I say, offering my hand and trying to hide my discomfiture.

He takes my hand. "Charmed, I'm sure."

"Do you have what I asked for?" L'Arachel says.

"Do you have my money?"

"What is money is the face of injustice, Rennac? Cannot you see the importance of..."

As L'Arachel continues, Rennac heaves a sigh and slumps into an easy chair across from her. He pulls a disc out of his jacket. "Happy?"

"Of course. I am alway happy because, unlike you, I treasure what I have rather than constantly lamenting what I do not."

Rennac snorts. "That's easy to say when you own a _castle_."

I clear my throat. "About the disc..."

Rennac glances over at me. "It's got the records I promised from Carcino. I may not work there anymore, but I still have some... friends, shall we say, on the inside. Seems Pablo's been a busy boy. Channelling funds to untraceable accounts– that sort of thing."

"You see, Eirika?" L'Arachel announces, looking rather stately in a red velvet high backed chair. "Rennac may look disreputable, but even he has his uses."

"Unlike some of us," he mutters.

"What was that, Rennac?" L'Arachel asks with a raised brow.

"Oh nothing, your highness." He glances– I should say, _stares_– at me for a moment then. "Can I assume the reason you haven't gone to the authorities has to do with your stock?"

I nod, surprised by his insight. "We'd like to avoid another scandal. Things are precarious enough as is."

"Well I wish you the best of luck with that. For a _small_ commission I'll be happy to keep an eye out."

"_Rennac_." The way she says his name you'd think she was addressing a dog that had piddled on a very expensive rug.

He sighs and his shoulders droop. "I'll let you know if I hear anything."

And with that he goes on his way.

L'Arachel shakes her head. "What a vexing man he is."

"Thank you," I say quietly, clutching the disc. We're this much closer to putting an end to this mess.

"It's late and you've an early start tomorrow," L'Arachel says gently. "You should rest."

I nod and soon I'm back in my room. But even under a silk sheets and down comforter, it takes me ages to get to sleep.


	34. Dream

**Day Seventeen: Dream**

In my dream it's my wedding day. We're in a chapel with a high, domed ceiling of dark glass. For some reason Seth's in a white tux... so when the gunshots ring out and he's hit, the blood is like a blossoming flower on his chest. And then he's in my arms and I'm trying to bind his wounds and we're not in the chapel anymore but I'm still in the wedding dress and it's red with blood.

And I wake in a cold sweat.

I scrabble for the light switch, hoping the dream will vanish with the darkness. But I'm trembling and my stomach is roiling and I want nothing more than to be home, than to be with Seth. I hug my knees and take a deep breath. It's ridiculous to be so upset over a dream but... it was too much like the real thing. And I remember how warm his blood was on my hands, and its coppery taste, and how frightening it is to see someone you love hurt like that.

I glance at the clock. Two a.m. It's only nine back home. I reach for my cell and call Seth's number.

"Seth."

"Eirika?"

"Hello."

"Are you all right? Isn't it late there?"

"I'm fine. I just... had trouble sleeping." If I tell him I had a nightmare he'll ask what it was about. The awfulness of it, that oppressive feeling is still too close, too tangible– I don't want to have to recount it. "We talked about Carcino today and it was... unsettling."

"I'm sorry, my darling. We _will_ sort this out." His voice is steely and I shudder. I love him. I don't want him to endanger himself again.

I stiffen as I hear a muffled sound in the background. I think it was a passing siren. "Where are you?"

"My apartment."

"Oh, I– why?"

He hesitates a moment and then, "It felt strange to be at your place alone."

"Oh."

"And it smells like varnish."

I can't help but laugh. The bookcases. Of course."Once we get your things all settled in it'll feel more like home, don't you think?" I know it must be difficult for him to move into _my_ home with _my_ furniture, but it was the obvious choice. And he certainly didn't complain about getting to watch the Knicks on my plasma tv.

"I'm sure it will."

We fall into an easy silence for a while and I'm content to just hear the sound of his breaths. I turn out the light and sit in the darkness with the phone. "It's late," he says after a minute or so. "Don't you have to leave early tomorrow?"

"Mmm." I have appointments in Paris; it should make my visit here seem more normal and avoid raising suspicions. "Seth?"

"Yes?"

"Could you just stay on the line a while. Please?"

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine. I'd just... like to hear your voice for a little while. You can talk about anything. Work, basketball, the weather– just anything."

He hesitates a moment and then, "All right."

As he begins talking about the gloomy weather that's been hovering over the city all week, I curl up under the blankets with the cell phone pressed against my ear. It's not long before I start getting sleepy. "Goodnight, Seth," I mumble into the phone.

"Goodnight." I fold it closed and somehow manage to put it on the bedside table.

I can feel myself drifting to sleep. Seth's voice has chased away all the nightmares.


	35. Bed

**Day Sixteen: Bed**

My suite in Paris is lovely. The room is clean and beautifully furnished with old-fashioned elegance. If I were to draw back the curtains I would have a stunning view of the city at night, alive with lights. The sheets are crisp and scented with potpourri. Yet, as I lie in bed in the darkness, I feel far away.

In my mind I'm back in a cheap motel trying to bind Seth's wounds, pressing threadbare towels against his shoulder with trembling hands. It's not potpourri that I smell, but cigarette smoke and stale beer. The shower drain is stained with rust and the carpet with God only knows what. Seth's blood is warm as it oozes out of the bullet wound in his shoulder. I'm lying next to him, desperately afraid that his racing heartbeat will falter and fade entirely.

After all these months I still remember it far too easily, too vividly. Seth had spirited me out of our building and then out of the city. He'd not hear of going to a hospital to treat his shoulder, not until he was certain I would be safe. I'm the one who insisted he pull over finally, somewhere along the highway. And so we stayed until morning in a roadside motel.

I want to know that this will get better, that one day I'll be able to sleep alone in a hotel bed without thinking of that night– or at least without _feeling_ it. I can't take Seth everywhere. I need to find a way to carry his strength with me, until I can find my own again.


	36. Together

**Day Fifteen: Together**

It was six p.m. when I left Paris. I've just arrived in New York and it's eight p.m. The flight was seven hours long. It's almost too much for my jet-lagged mind to grasp.

But even my fatigue melts away, washed away by elation as I see him. Seth. There he is. I catch sight of him before he spots me and by the time he does I'm already walking towards him at a fast clip with a smile that might well split my face.

"I missed you," I say and throw myself into his welcoming arms.

"I missed you too," he says, his face buried in my hair so that his breath tickles my ear.

I give him an extra squeeze. "I'm so glad to be _home_." I feel his body tense as I say the word and all at once my nerves are on edge. "Is everything all right? Nothing's happened has it?"

"No," Seth says, drawing back to look me in the eyes, brows furrowed. "Everything's fine. It's just..."

I bite my lip. I've been checking my emails of course but Ephraim or Seth would have called if there were anything wrong. Surely they wouldn't wait for me to get home... "Just what?"

"It's been so humid of late, the varnish on the new bookcases took longer to dry that I'd hoped. So..." He pauses to clear his throat. "Things are a bit messy."

I sag against him and close my eyes for a moment. We're in the middle of a busy airport, people bustling to and fro, all caught up in the rhythm of their lives. They have no idea how quickly it can all just... stop.

"Eirika, are you all right?"

"Yes. I'm tired is all. I haven't been sleeping well. And..."

"And?"

He looks so serious, so worried. I shake my head. I thought I was over all of this. I thought I was done with being afraid. "I just need to be home. With you."

He takes my suitcase with one hand and puts his other arm around my shoulders. "Let's go home," he says.

Right now I can't imagine anything that could be better than that.


	37. Chapter 37

**Day Fourteen: Sex**

When I arrived home Thursday night I was too tired to do anything but collapse into bed. But today is another matter. Seth's taken the day off and there's sex. A lot of it.

Lying in bed, blissfully lethargic, with Seth's bare skin pressed close against mine, I'd be ready to swear it was Saturday not Friday. I woke up this morning to the scent of bacon wafting in from the kitchen. And homefries. There were homefries too. Being a gentleman, Seth likes to make sure I'm well fed before any sort of strenuous physical activity. I'm twenty-four years old and Seth will be turning thirty-two tomorrow and yet here we are on a Friday afternoon, carrying on like horny teenagers.

Yawning, I stretch and let my eyes rove around my unusually messy bedroom. My suitcase is lying open in one corner, half unpacked. Next to it are several boxes of books from Seth's apartment. We're still waiting for the varnish to dry. Over to one side, Seth's new dresser is piled with the clothes he brought over yesterday but didn't have time to put away: shirts, socks, boxers, all neatly folded. There's still something strange about having a man's boxers piled up in my room– like foreign objects that've washed up on shore.

Next to me, Seth stirs. A gushy sort of happiness bubbles through me as a deep, contented groan pours out of his chest. He smiles. I lean over to look into his face. Our eyes meet and for a long moment we just stare at each other– until we break out grinning like a pair of cats who've not only eaten the canary, but who've gone on to beget a litter of kittens while they were at it.

"So, what shall we do this evening?" he asks, brushing a lock of hair out of my face. "Would you like to go out?"

I roll my eyes. "I've had enough going out. I want to stay home tonight."

"We could watch a movie."

"That's more like it." I lie back and lean my head against his chest so that I can hear the steady thump of his heartbeat. I close my eyes, and let it lull me into a doze.


	38. Birthday

**Day Thirteen: Birthday**

Seth stiffens as the waitress approaches with a plate of cake. "I'm told there's a birthday at this table."

"Right here," Ephraim says, gesturing towards Seth. "Our dear Mr. Knightly."

The waitress tilts her head. "Mr. Knightly? Like in the Jane Austin novel?"

"Yes," I say, smiling. "Exactly like in the novel." Forde snickers and Kyle glares at him.

The waitress places the cake– a layered chocolate confection– before Seth. "This is our house specialty: chocolate sponge cake dabbed with Grand Marnier, with layers of chocolate mousse and dusted with Belgian chocolate shavings."

"Thank you," Seth says. He only relaxes when she leaves. I wonder if he's had a bad experience involving restaurants on his birthday.

"I suppose we'll forbear singing 'Happy Birthday'," Ephraim says, "but in return I want to hear no complaints about you present. Not a thing about how you can't possibly and all that."

Poor dear. He looks pained. Finally, he sighs. "As long as it's not a small country."

"Belgium's not that small." Ephraim winks and then reached for something under the table. A box wrapped in red paper. A little uncertainly, Seth reaches for the box and begins working at the tape on each end and then at the bottom, finally opening the package without so much as tearing the paper. A black case. He opens it and inside is a leather-bound volume with gold lettering. With great care, he lifts the book out of the case and inspects the cover and the spine before opening it. There's an inscription on the inside cover. His eyes just about bulge out as he reads it.

"Ephraim..."

"It's a first edition and signed by the author. I tracked him down."

"You mean your assistant did," I cut in.

"A technicality. He retired from Stanford five years ago. I'm told that book is still considered a classic on World War I history. It's the right one, isn't it?"

"Yes. Yes it's... Thank you."

I reach out under the table and give Seth's arm a squeeze. He looks over at me, smiling.

"So what about your present?" Forde asks me.

"I already gave it to him." This morning I sang him 'Happy Birthday' and gave him a wrapped box with a bow on top. He unwrapped it the same way he did Ephraim's gift.

"Knicks season tickets," Seth says before Forde has the chance to make an off-colour joke. Of course I do have special lingerie I picked up in Paris that I'm going to try on tonight, but they don't need to know about that.


	39. Enemies

**Day Twelve: Enemies**

When Seth and I walk into the meeting room, we each take a seat next to our lawyers, opposite each other like opponents. It's strange to be doing this on a Sunday. It was supposed to be last week but I had to reschedule due to my trip and this was the best we could manage.

"Let's get started then," says my lawyer. Seth's counsel nods. I helped Seth find a lawyer, though he's the one paying him of course. It would look suspicious otherwise and could invalidate the prenup, though Seth had to assure me repeatedly that he could afford it. He reminded me– not for the first time– that Ephraim pays him quite well.

The lawyers go over the agreement. It's strange to see our life dismembered into categories and subcategories, decimal points and percentages. And it's unsettling to sign a contract about a divorce before we're even married. I wish I were sitting next to Seth...

Seth is silent throughout the proceedings, up until they come to the part about the cash settlement. "And should you separate you'll be entitled to this amount," says Seth's lawyer, the tip of his pen pointing to the appropriate line of the document.

"What?" Seth sounds positively aghast. I look up to find him staring at the document in quite obvious consternation.

"It's a very generous sum," his lawyer says.

"It's too much."

His lawyer looks confused. "Mr. Knightly, I assure you–"

"It's ridiculous," Seth snaps. He looks up at me then. "If I sign this people are going to say I married you for your money." I hold back a sigh. I wish he understood these things better.

"No," I say slowly, "that's what they'll say if you _don't_ sign it."

"But, Eirika, that's more than I could earn in a lifetime."

"No one's going to know that."

"But–"

I square my shoulders. "Would you rather have people saying that I took advantage of you? That I used my money to get the best lawyer and sucker you into a bad prenup?"

"No, of course not. It's just..." He heaves a sigh and reaches for the pen. "Let's please get this over with."

We sign the forms in triplicate and then it's over. We shake hands with the lawyers and Seth looks as relieved to see them go as I am. Seth's jaw is still set, his shoulders tensed. "Want to get some lunch?" I ask him.

He lets out a long breath and slowly, the tension drains out of him. He nods to me and a smile creeps onto his face. As we walk out into the daylight once more, he takes my hand, and we're friends again.


	40. Memories

**Day Eleven: Memories**

I have a little time in between the last conference call and the next meeting. Another security briefing– and this one's crucial. We'll be turning over all our evidence to Duessel. He's retired now but he still has contacts in the FBI. He should be able to help us– and keep things quiet. Today's meeting will change everything... but it's not due to start for another twenty minutes.

There's a cup of mocha cooling on my desk. I just keep twirling the diamond ring on my finger round and round, thinking...

A year ago....The last time I saw Lyon was a year ago. It was just a few months before the incident with Grado, yet my memory of him that night is dim. Because Seth was there and everything seemed dim next to him. It was a charity event held by Grado Inc. and Ephraim and I were both there on behalf of Renais to present a cheque. Lyon had invited me but...

**ooo**

"What do you mean he's not here?" Ephraim's expression wavers between irritation and concern.

"I'm sorry, sir." The Grado security officer shrugs. "He's not."

"Are you saying that Lyon skipped his own event _and_ stood up my sister?"

"_Ephraim_." I don't want him to make a scene. He scowls. "Let's just go back to our table."

"He should have called you," Ephraim grumbles.

"He's probably not feeling well. You know how Lyon's health is."

"Even so..."

"It's fine. Come on. It's not fair to leave Tana all by her lonesome."

"You go back. I need to make a quick call." I cock an eyebrow but Ephraim pointedly ignores me. We sit through dinner and the speeches. And then the music starts. There's always dancing at Grado's parties. There always has been and I'd been looking forward to it. It must show on my face because neither Ephraim nor Tana moves a muscle.

"Oh go on," I tell them.

Tana shakes her head. "No, I'm fine. I'm not in the right shoes."

I smile. "Liar. You bought those shoes just for tonight. You told me all about it last week." She colours and I turn to Ephraim. "Go dance with your date."

He opens his mouth– to protest, I'm certain– but then something behind me catches his eye. And then all at once he's grinning and he leaps to his feet and offers Tana his hand. "Well?" he says to her. I roll my eyes. Elegant as ever, Ephraim.

Tana hesitates but then takes his hand and he hurries her away, whispering something in her ear that has her grinning as well. Odd. I wonder what–

"May I have this dance, Miss King?"

My heart leaps into my throat. I look up to see him standing there by my table, dressed in a tux, his russet hair damp as if he just showered, and I catch of whiff of aftershave. "Seth?"

"Miss King."

"Eirika," I correct automatically. "We're not at work. But... what are you doing here?"

A smile quirks his lips. "I was told you were in desperate need of a dance partner."

"Oh." I can feel a flush creeping into my cheeks. "Ephraim. I'm sorry. He shouldn't have bothered you on the weekend for something so silly."

"You could never be a bother, Eirika," he replies with that earnestness I've always found so endearing, whereas I know others think him aloof or cold. He's reserved and serious much of the time, but how could anyone not see the kindness in his expression? "Now..." he says, holding out his hand. "Would you do me the honour?"

I've been to a hundred of these balls and parties and fund-raisers and I've danced with business tycoons and playboys and never faltered, but my heart hammers against my ribs as I place my hand in Seth's.

He leads me onto the floor and I'm suddenly terrified that I won't remember what to do, that I'll step on his toes or trip in my high heels like something out of a campy Hollywood comedy. I thought I was over this. I saw him so little while I was away at Harvard and then when I started working at our company I was so busy and Seth seemed intent on keeping out of my way... But he's as handsome now as I thought he was when I was in my teens. I'm twenty-three, a Harvard graduate, an heiress, and a businesswoman... and I suddenly feel like a girl at her first prom.

I wonder if he's nervous– his hand is slick. My heart leaps as he places his other hand on my waist. I don't think I've ever been this close to him before. "What were you doing before Ephraim called?" I say, hoping that if I talk I can stop worrying about my feet.

He clears his throat. "Nothing much."

I can't help but smile. "How did you ever manage to become our security chief, Seth? You're an awful liar."

"I don't need to lie to be head of security. I just need to be intimidating."

I chuckle because to me he's always seemed such a pussycat. "You're changing the subject. Really? What was it? Was there a Knicks game on tonight?"

"Well... Yes." He's making a face.

"Oh no... Seth... Don't tell me you were _at_ the game?" He winces. "I'm so sorry. Ephraim really shouldn't have–"

"It's fine," he assures me. "He'll get me tickets for another game. And better seats at that."

I hardly know what to say, torn between embarrassment and gratitude. We move back and left, forward and right in step with the music. A simple waltz. Yet nothing is simple. He's so dear, so handsome, but for all I know he sees me still as the little girl who played with dolls at his first company picnic, or the rich girl who rented an island one year for spring break. I've considered him a friend, but always there's been that distance of age, of status. There are times when he's so open, so honest with me– how can he be anything less than a friend? But then sometimes there's a wall. His expression goes blank and he becomes the man in the suit and tie, our head of security, calm and detached and unreadable even by me.

A glint of gold catches my eye.

I glance at Seth's sleeve only to find a cufflink– a cut sapphire ringed with yellow and white gold. "Eirika?" he says and I realize that I've stopped dancing.

I drop my eyes. "Sorry," I murmur and begin stepping in time with the music once more. "You kept them."

"Hmm?"

"The cufflinks." I'd given them to him years ago, the Christmas before I started college.

"Of course."

I look up at him and our eyes meet and he doesn't look away. And it dawns on me. I'm not over him at all. He's still as dear to me as he ever has been and I want him as much as I ever have. And I've no idea what to do about it.

"I'm glad," I say finally, glancing down at the cufflinks, feeling flushed. "You look very dashing tonight," I add, somehow finding the nerve to look up.

"And you look lovely."

"Thank you." And then somehow it's comfortable again. We lapse into an easy silence, talking only now and then.

It's late when he leads me back to our table and I'm surprised to find Lyon there, looking pallid and shaky. He apologises and I assure him that everything is fine. And it's true. I spent the night in Seth's arms. How could I want for anything more?

And yet I do...

**ooo**

"Earth to Eirika."

I start and look up to find Ephraim in the doorway to my office. "Sorry. Is it time?"

He nods and crosses the room. "Duessel's here and Gerik. Artur and Lute too. We're all set to go." Something must show on my face because as I stand, Ephraim reaches out to grip my shoulders. "It's going to fine. You just worry about that wedding of yours. This'll all be taken care of by then."

I smile. Ephraim has always gone out of his way to make me happy, even when I want something well nigh impossible. I swear, even back then, if it had been in Ephraim's power to give me Seth, he'd have wrapped him up in a package and tied a bow around his neck. And now... all I want is for this mess to be over. But peace of mind, too, is something that Ephraim can't hand over to me in a wrapped package.

It's still March, still the month of Mars, and there are battles to be fought.

I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and look up to meet Ephraim's eyes. "Let's go," I say. Ephraim nods and side be side we march in time like soldiers.


	41. Smell

**Day Ten: Smell**

Seth must have been in a hurry when he left this morning; there's a T-shirt crumpled on the corner of the bed. It's rare for him to leave things lying around. My first appointment today is over breakfast so I was able to sleep in a little– which is good since I slept so poorly last night. Scenes from the meeting kept replaying themselves in my mind's eye as I lay in bed. Even the steady sound of Seth's breathing wasn't enough to help me relax.

I pick up the shirt to toss it in the hamper when all at once I'm struck by Seth's scent. It's not sweat, just the smell of his skin.

And I remember the night he was shot, lying next to him, breathing in his scent. After the tang of blood and disinfectant as I bound his wound, and the stale cigarette stench of the motel room, his smell seemed so normal, so human. I was so afraid– Ephraim was missing; Seth was injured; and dad... even then I knew my father must be... Seth was all I had left in the world that night and I was terrified he'd leave me too, but hurting and tired as he was, he pulled me close and I listened to the thrum of his heartbeat and breathed in the scent of his skin until I fell asleep.

I hold the shirt up to my nose. He doesn't even need to be here; just the phantom of his presence is enough to comfort me.

"It'll be all right," he tells me whenever he catches me thinking of what happened. "It'll get easier."

I close my eyes, take a deep Seth-laden breath and tell myself, "It'll be all right. Everything will be all right."


	42. Rain

**Day Nine: Rain**

I'm just finishing off the last of the day's emails when my cell rings. I smile. It's Seth's ringtone.

"Seth."

"Hello."

"What's up? Are you staying late?"

"No. Actually some of the others wanted to go play a game or two so we're headed to the park."

He sounds a bit stiff and I wonder if the boys are teasing him for calling me before going out. I can just imagine Forde doing that. "Game?"

"Football."

"Stress relief?" We had another meeting today about Carcino. For the most part things are out of our hands now that we've turned over our evidence to Duessel, but everyone is on edge, especially with the wedding coming up in a week and a half.

"Something of sorts. Would you like to come?"

I glance at the window. It's been grey all day, hardly the sort of weather for an impromptu sporting event if you ask me. But boys will be boys, I suppose... And Seth will be in shorts. That's always a plus. "All right."

"I'll meet you in the lobby in twenty minutes."

"Okay."

I finish up the last of my emails, grab my things, and hastily change into some more casual clothes. I'm so used to having to go places directly from work that I always keep extra outfits at the office.

On the way out, I dash back into my office to get my umbrella.

**ooo**

So much for _touch_ football, I think, wincing as Ross barrels into Forde. Ross's father Garcia retired from Renais years ago when his wife died, but now that Ross has been working for us part time to help cover his tuition, he drops by the office more often. This evening Garcia is playing on Forde's team along with Franz while Seth has Kyle and Ross. Amelia has come as well and of course she cheers for Franz's team while I call out to Seth's.

The game itself seems haphazard to me– granted my attention lies entirely on Seth. Sometimes I find myself thinking how truly different men are, their build, the way they move, how they can be filled with a kind of brutish energy at times terrifying or beautiful. Seth is mesmerizing to watch: the way his shoulders bunch, his feet shift, how he draws back his arm to throw the ball and propel it into the air. The hard lines of his body fascinate me still, though every inch of him is known to me now.

Forde's team has the ball and they're setting up for another play when I feel the first raindrops prickling my skin. While I rummage for my umbrella, the boys– being boys– ignore it. I've got my umbrella open and I'm safely beneath it by the time the scattered drops break into a spring downpour. It's not even April yet and while it's true that it's been unseasonably warm this week, I'm sure the rain isn't much more pleasant than a cold shower and the game breaks up immediately with the boys muttering imprecations– to put a kind word upon it– at the cloud-laden sky.

Franz hurries over to join Amelia under her shiny red umbrella. I catch her eye and wink. At least we're still dry. Seth joins me under my umbrella, teeth chattering.

"Le's get you home," I say, patting his arm.

Garcia is thumping Ross on the back as they tramp off together and Kyle is gathering his sopping belongings. "No fair!" Forde calls out from where he's standing, quite throughly soaked.

"That's what fiances are for," I say with a grin.

"That's not all I hear they're for," he shoots back.

Seth stares daggers, sending Forde scrambling to collect his things. "He should have more respect," Seth murmurs.

I shrug. "Forde's Forde. Besides... he's not entirely wrong," I say, brushing a kiss over Seth's lips. I huddle close to my soggy fiance and head home, happy for the sound of raindrops plinking against the top of our umbrella.


	43. Hear

**Day Eight: Hear**

Sitting in his seat in our private box, Seth crosses his legs, uncrosses them, leans on his elbows, sits back in his seat, and crosses his legs again.

I put my hand on his knee and smile at him when he looks over. "There isn't going to be a test after show, you know. Just relax."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I've never been to an opera before. It's not really..."

"I know," I say squeezing his knee. "I'm glad you came."

"Why did Ephraim cancel all of a sudden?"

I shake my head. "It was something to do with Tana so I didn't want to pester him for details. Things are a little touch and go right now with them."

"I see."

The opera hall is filled with chatter. Sitting high above everyone, I love to look down on the crowds. The seats are filled with men in dark suits and women in dresses of every colour, though red is always popular. I'm in a deep blue gown with an impressive decolletage– that I caught Seth eyeing earlier.

"Don't forget," I say before he can start to fidget again, "you have carte blanche to drag me to an event of your choice. A Nicks game. A baseball game. Anything."

His lips quirk. "What about pro wrestling?"

"What?"

"Or maybe monster trucks..."

"Since when do you like monster trucks?"

"I don't particularly." I swat him with the program. His eyes turn to the stage then and he sighs. "I'm not going to understand a word of what they're saying..."

"There should be subtitles on the screen over there. And you've read the summary in the program, right?"

He nods. We're seeing Carmen. With the little French I've studied I can understand bits of it, but not much. It's not really about the words, though. It's the singers themselves, their voices, that convey the emotion. You don't need to understand every word to grasp the feeling of the opera.

The lights dim and the show begins. I reach out to squeeze Seth's hand. Excitement thrills through me. Tonight if I meet anyone I know during the intermission, I'll be introducing Seth as my fiancé; in a week I'll be able to introduce him as my husband.

I know he won't really enjoy the show the way I will, and I don't expect him to hear what I do when the performers begin to sing, but he came. For me. And that's enough.


	44. Guilty

**Day Seven: Guilty**

"It's strange..."

"I know." Our voices echo through the bare rooms. The charities came and carted away all of Seth's extra furniture and now there's nothing but a few piles of boxes left. It's the thirty-first of March, the very last day of Seth's lease on his apartment. I feel awful that we left it to the last minute but things have been so busy of late. Of course when things got busy I did offer to have professional movers pack everything up and bring it all over to my place, but Seth gave me one of those looks.

"I've lived here for so long," he says.

I smile. "I know. I remember it from when I was sixteen. You'd just moved in then."

He glances at me, brows creased. "When were you at my apartment?"

I give him a sideways glance, one eyebrow raised. "Are you telling me you don't remember?"

He clears his throat. In the hollowed out room it has a low, rumbling sound to it, like a dog's growl. "You were young. I didn't think of you... like that.... until later."

I start to giggle. The poor dear has such a pained look on his face. It's still early in the evening and we have time before we need to leave for good, so I saunter into the kitchen and perch myself on the counter top while Seth puzzles over when and why I was here. "Do you need a hint?"

"Please." His footsteps resound throughout the apartment as he prowls around his former living room and its scratched up hardwood floor.

"I got to lie on your couch." He spins and has that pained look again. "Are you having naughty thoughts, darling?"

"No."

"Of course not." I wait a few seconds and then, "There was ice."

"Ice?"

"Mmm-hmm."

He tilts his head and stares at me. I kick my feet out, swinging them as I sit on his counter. His eyes drop to my feet and I can see it in his face. "Your ankle," he says, nodding. "You sprained your ankle."

"I was wearing a ridiculous pair of red heels. Horrid things."

He nods. "We were close to my apartment so I brought you here to ice it down right away."

"You make it sound so... prosaic."

"It wasn't?"

I laugh. "For a sixteen-year-old girl? I had a gorgeous man come to my rescue, sweep me up into his arms, carry me to his apartment, lay me down on the couch and put his hands all over my bare ankle. That's the sort of thing a sixteen-year-old girl fantasises about."

"I see." I feel my cheeks flush as a lopsided smile creeps onto his face. I supposes even Seth can figure out where _that_ particular fantasy led.

He makes another tour of his apartment, pausing to look out his bedroom window and take in the view one last time. It's a view of the building across the street, but I suppose its familiarity is comforting to him. From my penthouse windows we get a spectacular view of the city, though I need special blinds to keep out all the light. New York is always shining.

I wonder, though, what he's thinking about as he takes his final look around. Is he thinking of Natasha? They were very nearly living together for a while, so I'll be glad to leave this place behind. Even though I've spent the night with Seth here, made love in his bed, on his couch, sometimes I could swear I caught a whiff of Natasha's perfume. And I know it's all in my head because Natasha hardly ever wore perfume anyway.

As he heads back to the kitchen I catch him stuffing a paperclip and the stub of a pencil into his pocket. It makes me smile.

"Are you ready?"

He nods. I hop down from the counter and take his hand, intertwining our fingers. "Let's go home," he says.


	45. Pleasure

**Day Six: Pleasure**

Standing in the doorway to Seth's new office, I watch him placing his books on the bookshelf, one at time. I wonder if he's going to alphabetize them. Or maybe he uses the Dewey Decimal system?

To one side is his some-assembly-required desk. The varnish on the bookcases was picked to match it, so at least it doesn't look too out of place. His father's moose mug is perched on the corner and it looks like he's decided to keep it in here– which is fine with me. His fencing foil hangs above the desk, a suggestion of mine that he took up. I thought it would be a nice touch, especially since he doesn't care to display his trophies. In the corner is a worn stuffed chair with a reading lamp next to it.

This room is entirely his and he takes such obvious pleasure in it that I feel warmed to watch him. I want him to feel at home here. I want this place to become _our_ home.

He glances over his shoulder and smiles at me. "You don't need an invitation to come in."

I cross the room to stand next to him. My hand runs up and down his spine, rubbing his back. "Getting settled in finally?"

"Mm."

"Oh and no wild antics tonight, all right?" I say with a wink. Tonight is his bachelor party, though I use the term quite loosely. Ephraim is taking him and the boys out to dinner.

"I don't think you'll have much to worry about with Ephraim there."

"It's not Ephraim I'm worried about."

"Eirika, I'm not the sort to–"

"I meant Forde."

"Ah. Well... yes." I had a little chat with Forde earlier this week and made him promise there would be no naked or semi-naked women involved in the event in any way, shape or form. He agreed a little faster than I'd expected. That makes me nervous. "I'm sure it'll be fine," he says and kisses the top of my head before reaching to get another book out of the box he's unpacking. He seems so contented here. And for a while, standing close so I can feel the warmth seeping from his skin, I enjoy just watching him.

He is alphabetising them.


	46. Innocence

**Day Five: Innocence**

I start awake at the sound of the door. The book I was reading is lying open on the bed next to me. I glance at the clock. Twelve-forty. I thought he'd be back by eleven.

"Seth?" I call out, rubbing my eyes.

Seth pokes his head into the room. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

I shake my head. "It's all right. I dozed off while reading. You're certainly up past your bedtime, though. How was dinner?" He clears his throat and runs his fingers through his hair. "Seth?"

"It was..." He clears his throat again. "Interesting."

"Are you drunk?"

"No. I had some scotch." He doesn't sound drunk, but he has this guilty look on his face.

I peer at him, one eyebrow raised. "Were there naked women at your dinner party?"

Seth groans. "Not exactly." What does _that_ mean?

"A stripper?" I bite my lip as he hesitates and my stomach is flip-flopping rather unpleasantly.

"Of sorts."

"I'm going to kill him. Forde promised me he wouldn't hire any scantily clad women."

"There weren't any women," Seth says.

"But you said–"

"Forde thought it would amusing to hire a drag queen."

"A–" I stop, stare, take a breath. "Are you joking?"

"Sadly no. She– he– did a lap dance for me." I'm too tired not to laugh at the abashed look on Seth's face.

"Come here," I say holding my hand out to him. He comes and I pull him down next to me and kiss him. "Was he pretty?"

"Not my type," Seth says with a groan. "Forde seemed to rather enjoy himself, though."

"I'm going to uninvite him to the wedding again."

A smile tugs at Seth's lips. "If he's still in once piece– Kyle nearly had a fit. Ross... decided he needed to use the men's room."

"And Ephraim?"

Seth grunts. "He nearly fell off his seat laughing." I roll my eyes but then turn my attention back to Seth as he strokes my hair. "Am I cleared of all charges then?"

"Case dismissed," I say and kiss him again.


	47. Beauty

**Day Four: Beauty**

I glance down at my cell phone as the chime alerts me to a new text.

_Wut abt 2sdy_

Tana and I have been in a text message war since this morning. It's Monday. I'm getting married on Friday.

Tana's flying in on Wednesday and I think she may well be as excited as I am, though I think Ephraim might have something to do with that too. I've been trying to get her to spill about what's going on. The war started with with Tana's "R U Xitd" and my reply of "R U and E together." So far she's winning– mostly because I have to stare at her texts a while in order to decrypt them.

I take a break from my overflowing inbox to answer her.

_Tues may work need new swimsuit_

I still need to pick up some things for the trip. Seth and I are going to the Bahamas for our honeymoon and there some things I just can't have someone else pick up for me– lingerie, for instance. And a new bikini.

When my cell pings again only a minute later I start to wonder if Tana was sitting with the phone in her hands just waiting for my reply to come in.

_U shd t8k S_

She's suggesting I take Seth along for the shopping... at least I think that's what she's suggesting.

"Don't u have work 2 do," is my reply, which moments later is met with ":P" as a response.

Maybe she's coming in early and wants me out of the way. After the whole bachelorette incident, I wouldn't put anything past her. Maybe she's sneaking in to see Ephraim. I'm still not sure what's going on there and Ephraim's been tight-lipped ever since he cancelled on me the other night.

I have work to do, reports and messages that need to be written so I can clear my desk before Friday, yet I reach for my cell again.

_R U coming rly Tues 2 C E_

I'm shocked by the reply. It's in English. _Yes. A surprise. No telling._

_K C U then_

The beauty of it is, we could have settled the matter in fifteen minutes over the phone.


	48. Shopping

**Day Three: Shopping**

Seth glances at me with a raised eyebrow as I sit down on the corner of his desk."I still need some things for the trip, and I know you need new swim trunks," I begin, trailing my fingers along his arm. "So what do you say we take a long lunch and go shopping today?"

He winces. "But, darling, I have work I need to get done."

"You can do it when you get back."

"I'm not sure that's–"

"So what you're saying is you don't want to come and watch me try on bikinis?"

He clears his throat. "Well..." He shuts the file he's looking at. "I... suppose it can wait."

**ooo**

"All right, how about this one?" I say as I step out of the change room in another bikini. I saved this one for last. It's red and there's not a lot of it.

Seth's eyes widen, his eyebrows arching.

I spin to give him the full view, biting back a laugh at the look on his face. "So what do you think?"

He gawks for a moment longer before he finally manages to speak. "I think I'm quite glad that we'll be on a private island when you wear that."

"I'll make sure to get one of the more modest ones too," I say with a wink. "In case we feel like going to one of the other islands."

Two weeks alone with Seth on a private island. I can't wait. His jaw dropped when I told him how much renting it would cost. A luxury island in the Bahamas can go for somewhere between one and two hundred thousand a week, depending on the size of its staff and the perks it offers. I had to remind Seth that, to me, it was spare change.

"What about the blue one?" I say from inside the change room. "It wasn't _too_ revealing, was it?"

"The blue one was lovely."

I emerge from the change room, fully clothed this time, with chosen swimwear in hand. "I need to get a few things on my own. Can you pick out your swim trunks while I do?"

"What sort of things?" His attempt at indifference fails entirely.

"Girly things that you don't get to see until the honeymoon."

He clears his throat. "Oh. I see." Definitely not indifferent.

I take his arm as we head out of the private changing area. "See? Shopping with your fiancé isn't so terrible, is it?"


	49. Whispers

**Day Two: Whispers**

"No no no. You must stand over there." L'Arachel's voice carries through the hall quite spectacularly. Ephraim, Seth, and Kyle, at the far end of the room, look bewildered as she grabs Kyle by the arm and displaces him about... half a foot. "There! Right there."

My stomach flutters. They've already begun decorating for Friday. I can hardly believe it. After all these months.

"Earth to Eirika."

"Hmm?"

Tana grins at me. "This is just the rehearsal. Imagine what you'll be like at the actual wedding."

"So what did you and Ephraim do yesterday?" I ask in a whisper.

"You mean while you and Seth played hooky all afternoon?"

"It was _your_ idea."

"And a good one, wasn't it? You needed to relax."

"You're changing the subject," I the far end of the room, L'Arachel is still trying to position the groom and groomsmen to her satisfaction.

Tana sniffs. "We had a long lunch."

"And?"

"_And_," she drawls, "he finally answered my question."

I grab her arm and spin us both around so our backs are to L'Arachel and the men. "What question? And what does this have to do with the other week? Ehpraim skipped out on one of his favourite operas because of you. Spill!"

She darts a glance over her shoulder in Ephraim's direction. "Well..." she begins in a low tone so that I have to strain to hear her. "I told him that I needed a straight answer on whether we're seeing each other or not. Because if we aren't then I need to know in advance because Cormag would need to get a suit to come to the wedding in."

I cock an eyebrow. "So do I need to add Cormag to the guest list?"

A gushy sort of happiness spreads through me as I watch a smile creeping onto Tana's face. "No, you won't need to do that."

I laugh and squeeze Tana's hands. It's while we're in this pose of girlish glee that L'Arachel turns her attention to us. "This is no time for gossiping, ladies!" she hollers from the other end of the room. Her voice certainly carries well. "Ephraim!" He stiffens. "Go stand by your sister."

"I know, I know," he mutters and crosses the room. Yet as he turns to face us he's smiling A sideways glance at Tana: she's smiling too with eyes only for Ephraim.

When Ephraim takes my arm and we rehearse our walk down the aisle, I have eyes only for Seth.


	50. Alliances

**Day One: Alliances**

"I've had word from Duessel." There's an audible intake of breath in the meeting room as Ephraim speaks. "An arrest warrant's been issued for Pablo."

"Duessel doesn't waste any time," Gerik says.

Ephraim nods. "The FBI was quite appreciative of information on Riev. I don't know how you did it, Gerik, but they owe you for that. And so do we."

"All in a day's work," Gerik says, grinning. He still reminds me of a tiger.

I look at the faces gathered around the long boardroom table: Gerik, Marisa, Tethys, Ephraim, Seth, Kyle, Forde, Franz, Lute, Artur, Innes, Tana, Syrene, and even L'Arachel. All these familiar faces. They should be here to celebrate our wedding– and tomorrow they will be, but today they've gathered for reasons far less pleasant.

"There's a long list of charges, for crimes against Renais Enterprises and Carcino Ltd. but also against Frelia Co."

Kyle looks surprised. "Frelia?"

Innes nods. "I'm afraid so. We only realized after Gerik began his investigation, but there were incursions into our systems as well. It seems that a few months prior to his visit here, he had made attempts to divert Frelia funds into another account, but he wasn't able to complete the transaction and apparently moved on to Renais afterwards. "

Lute sniffs. "Pablo has some skill, but his code is extremely deficient." Artur's lips are quirked into a smile as he looks at Lute. "Isn't that right, Artur?"

"Oh. Yes." He looks embarrassed as everyone's eyes turn to him. "It's like a dog leaving muddy tracks all over the floor... though you'd have to know what to look for in the first place."

"Your help's been greatly appreciated, both of you," Ehpraim says, turning to our two hackers. It's amazing that so many people, so many companies– competing companies even– have come together like this. Ephraim clears his throat. "He's on the run now. They'll catch Pablo– and Riev too for that matter." He looks me in the eyes as he says it.

I let out a deep breath. It's as if a weight has been lifted from me. It's not complete. It won't be while I know they're still out there, but it's different this time. We're safe.

I look across the table to Seth. I catch his eye and he smiles. Tomorrow, we're getting married.


	51. Confusion

**The Big Day: Confusion**

When I was a little girl and imagined having a big wedding, I don't think I ever realized how... chaotic it would be. It looks like mayhem to me with people going to and fro, carrying chairs, bouquets, food, escorting guests, doing security checks. Our security staffers speak into their walkie talkies in clipped tones, keeping an eye out while trying not to look too overawed by some of the better known guests. Amidst the confusion, L'Arachel is perpetually on the move. If I didn't know better I'd swear there were two or three of her.

Seth is another matter. I think he may be hiding.

It's not long before I have to start getting ready. I have a hair stylist and a makeup artist coming in and then there's the matter of getting the dress on. I wish I could see Seth, though. He was so nervous this morning. I don't think he slept well either. He was up even earlier than normal and went out for a long jog. I know he'd have preferred a small wedding, a reception with only our friends and family. I wish I could have given him that.

**ooo**

"You look perfect!" Tana says as we stand together before a full length mirror.

"Are you sure it's me? I can hardly believe it..." The gown is a beautiful, shimmering white and crinkles when I move. I have goosebumps as I stare at myself in the mirror.

Tana's hands are warm on my bare skin as she squeezes my shoulders. We stare at ourselves in the mirror the way we did as little girls playing dress-up. But today the dress-up is real and I have to blink rapidly to keep from tearing up and making a mess of my mascara.

A knock on the door.

"Come in."

Ephraim smiles as he walks into the room and sees us both. He looks very dashing in his tux and it's hard to miss the way Tana's face lights up at the sight of him. "Do you two need more time alone with the mirror?" he asks with a lopsided smile. Tana swats him and I just roll my eyes. He grins and then, more earnestly. "You look lovely. Both of you," he adds, glancing at Tana. She looks flushed.

"Do you need a few minutes?" Tana asks.

Ephraim nods. "Thanks." She squeezes his hand and he smiles at her and watches her leave.

I raise an eyebrow. "Flirting with the bridesmaid?"

"I'm flirting with my girlfriend," he says with a sniff.

"Well I'm glad you finally stopped waffling."

He groans. "I know, I know. But this past year's been so..."

"I know," I whisper. "I... I just wish dad could be here today."

"Me too." I had always imagined my father giving me away, pictured him walking next to me, tall and beaming with pride, giving a nod to the groom as we reached him, and then kissing me on the cheek before handing me off. I miss him every day, but right now I feel his absence more keenly than ever.

Ephraim takes me by the shoulders. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you."

He moves as if to embrace me and then stops. "Can I hug you or will I mess up your hair or something?"

"Don't be silly," I say and wrap my arms around him.

"If I have to give you away, I'm glad it's to Seth." My stomach flutters at the name. "Because you know," Ephraim continues, pulling back to grin at me, "if it had been Innes I don't think I'd have been able to stomach it."

"You realize the two of you could end up as in-laws."

He grimaces. "Don't remind me."

There's another knock on the door. "Come in." I'm expecting Tana or maybe L'Arachel, and I'm surprised when, instead, it's Seth.

"May I come in?" he asks, shifting from foot to foot.

"Is everything all right?"

"I–" He glances over his shoulder and then back at us. "Is it possible that I just saw George Clooney?"

"Umm.... Maybe."

Seth groans.

"You know..." Ephraim begins with a smirk. "They say it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding."

"Don't tease, Ephraim."

"All right," he says with a laugh, slapping Seth on the shoulder, "but remember it's too late to elope." He winks at me and then leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Seth looks pale and I come closer and squeeze his arm. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. It's... a bit overwhelming."

"Remember, trophy husbands don't have to talk. You just need to nod and look handsome."

He smiles then and takes my hand in his. And we fall silent, just looking at on another, taking it all in. He's so handsome in his tux, more than usual even, and it dawns on me– on us both I think... We're getting married!

"You're gorgeous," he says, and it's only as he reaches out to brush his fingers over my cheek that I notice his sleeves. Cufflinks with a cut sapphire, ringed with yellow and white gold.

I snag his hand and peer at his sleeve. "You still have them," I whisper.

"Of course I do. They were from you." And again he strokes my cheek and the look on his face... That something could be precious to him because it was from me... My heart swells and I squeeze my eyes shut. I _cannot_ afford to tear up. Not now.

"Are you two ready?" Tana calls from outside. "L'Arachel wants to get Kyle and Seth into position."

"In a second," I reply. Seth is shifting from foot to foot again, casting anxious glances at the door. I take his hand in both of mine. "It'll be all right. I promise I won't keep you waiting up there for long."

He takes a deep breath and nods. It's as if he's donning armour: he straightens his shoulders and his face becomes a mask of calm resolve. He spins to face the door– but then turns back to me and pulls me into his arms. "I love you."

I can hardly breath for how much I love him. I only just manage to whisper, "I love you too."

**ooo**

The room falls silent as I walk down the aisle on Ephraim's arm. The rows of guests, the photographer, the filmographer, everything falls away except for Seth, standing there at the far end of the aisle. He's all I can see, and in spite my resolve, his outline grows blurry, leaving me to dab at my eyes.

When we reach the far end of the room, Ephraim kisses me on the cheek and then, with a nod, hands me off to Seth. My heart races as he takes my hands in his and we stand facing each other.

The ceremony is a blur as I stare into Seth's face. Though his hands, gripping mine, are slick, he's smiling. Not the small, quiet smile most people are used to, but the glorious, wide smile he saves for when he's at home. My chest clenches. I can't believe it. Any moment I'll wake and this will all have been a dream, an achingly beautiful, perfect dream.

Someone sneezes.

Startled, I glance over my shoulder. Forde. Of course.

And then I smile. People don't sneeze in my dreams. My fantasies are perfect. In them Seth's palms are never slick, and he never misses a beat. In my fantasies he doesn't start as the minister signals us to speak our vows.

Seth nearly keeled over when L'Arachel suggested we write our own vows. He was afraid that anything he came up with would sound like a Hallmark card. We settled on something simple and traditional. He licks his lips and clears his throat before beginning. My heart starts to pound.

"I, Seth Knightly..." He pauses to draw breath. His expression is so earnest that I want to throw my arms around him. Instead, I just squeeze his hands. "Take you, Eirika King, to be my wedded wife. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part." His voice is little more than a husky whisper as he finishes. "And hereto I pledge you my faithfulness."

My hands, clasped in his, are trembling as I look into his eyes and speak. "I, Eirika King, take you, Seth Knightly, to be my wedded husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer..." And here I can't quite keep my lips from quiriking. I take a breath– I feel giddy, lightheaded almost– and go on. "In sickness or in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part. And hereto I pledge you my faithfulness."

He's grinning. My darling, ever-so-serious head of security, is grinning like a schoolboy. But then so am I.

The minister asks for the rings and Kyle steps forward. He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and removes a pair of plain, gold bands. Platinum seems to be popular right now and rose gold as well, but we were both adamant about old-fashioned yellow gold rings. Our names are engraved on the inside of them, but they're otherwise quite traditional.

I take the ring from Kyle and reach out for Seth's left hand. My heart flutters as I slide the wedding band onto his finger. "With this ring, I thee wed."

Seth's hand squeezes mine before he turns to Kyle and takes my ring from him. My breath catches in my throat as, for just an instant, he fumbles and it almost slips out of his grasp. That, too, would never happen in my dreams. Reality is far more memorable. I know it won't always be easy. It may be the day to day trials and tribulations that grind people down, but even so I believe we'll see it through. Even when things aren't perfect, I want to remember what matters to me. Because I know how easily it can all disappear– in an instant.

The tang of blood, stale smoke in a cheap hotel– that moment haunts me. I lost my father. I could have lost Seth. But it also reminds me to be grateful for the gift I've been given, this life together that we're beginning. I want this more than anything.

Seth takes a breath to steady himself and then turns to me, the ring safely clasped in his hand now. I hold out my left hand. He takes it in his. I can hardly breathe as he slips the gold band onto my finger. "With this ring, I thee wed."

I can barely hear over the pounding of my heartbeat.

"–vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

As the room thunders with applause, we wrap our arms around each other and his kiss... his kiss is better than perfect.

* * *

**A/N:** Just to clear things up, this is _**not**_ the last chapter. I'm sorry for the confusion. There are sixty chapters and this is only number fifty-one so nine more to go. :)


	52. Time

**Day One: Time**

Wrapped up in a fluffy wine-coloured bathrobe, russet hair still damp from his shower, and smelling faintly of Irish Spring soap, Seth is a sight to behold on this glorious, sunny morning, as we sit amidst our throughly crumpled sheets, eating breakfast in bed.

It was fairly late when the reception ended and we finally got up to our hotel suite. And of course we stayed up quite a while after that. A wonderfully long while. And then to sleep in... Ah! Heaven! Our flight doesn't leave until late this afternoon. We planned it this way so we'd have time to relax this morning and I'm glad we did. It feels decadent to be eating bacon and eggs and syrup-laden pancakes at a quarter to eleven in the morning.

"Have some of this," I say, holding out a bit of pancake skewered on my fork. "It's real maple syrup, not that fake stuff." I feed it to him and giggle as some of the syrup drips off at the last second onto his chin. Before he can wipe it away I lean in and kiss the sticky syrup off his skin.

As I brush a kiss over his lips, I feel his hand against my cheek. My heart skips a beat at the smooth touch of his wedding ring. Drawing back, I take his hand and for a moment I stare at it, the shiny gold band on the fourth finger of his left hand.

When I look up, he's smiling. "Come here," he says, opening his arms to me.

I almost knock over my plate of pancakes as I move towards him, but the sticky disaster is narrowly averted and then I'm lying back against his chest. He takes my left hand in his and intertwines our fingers so that gold meets gold.

Sitting here with him on our first morning as husband and wife... it means more than I'd expected, and I wish– like every cliche in every love story– that we could stay like this forever. I suppose in the romances Tana reads, though, no one's stomach ever starts to rumble in a moment of such touching intimacy.

I was hoping he hadn't heard, but he chuckles. "You should finish your pancakes before they get cold." And then he reaches for a piece of bacon. Sitting as close as I am to him, I can hear him chewing it.

So I set my plate of pancakes on my lap and finish our eleven o'clock feast, our left hands clasped all the while.


	53. Rome

**Day Two: Rome**

"You're where?" Tana, over the long distance line, sounds more than a little surprised.

"Rome."

"Italy?"

"No, Wisconsin," I say, without sarcasm.

"There's a Rome in Wisconsin?"

"Apparently." It's the first time I've been stranded in an airport at this time of night. I glance over at Seth who's on guard by the luggage. Arms crossed over his chest and scowling at anyone who approaches, Seth is very much in head of security mode– even if he's in pair of slacks and a T-shirt instead of his suit. "Our plane had mechanical difficulties and they rerouted us here."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. We had a bit of a scare but it's nothing too serious. I've been trying to call Ephraim all evening." Ephraim made me promise to call when we got in. We may be twins, but he does so love to play at being the big brother. And I love him for it.

"His cell phone died this afternoon."

I knit my brows. "How do you know that?"

She giggles. "No reason."

"_Tana_, what have you two been up to?"

"Nothing much. Do you want to talk to him. He's right here."

"Oh is he now?"

"Hi." He sounds sheepish.

"Hello, brother dear."

"We went out. And then we came back here for a movie."

"I see."

His tone turns serious. "Are you okay?"

Tired as I am, it takes me a moment to realize he can't see me nod. "We're fine. Just a little worn out. I just wanted to let you know what was up so you wouldn't worry. We're stuck here for the night." I heave a sigh. We should be the Bahamas right now, sleeping soundly under silk sheets to the sound of ocean waves lapping at the shore. "They're supposed to put everyone up in a hotel but there's been some holdup."

"You should've taken the jet like I said."

"It's a moot point."

It's hard to believe that it was only this morning that I was eating pancakes and feeling so utterly relaxed. Well.. Technically I suppose it was yesterday morning now. I've never been much of a night owl and even when I was in college, staying up past midnight was the exception to the rule. I feel drained. "I should go," I tell Ephraim. "I'll call you tomorrow when we get there."

"All right. Take care."

"Bye."

"Bye."

I hang up and go back to Seth who's still glowering at our fellow passengers as if they'd somehow engineered this debacle for the sole purpose of stealing our luggage. I squeeze his arm. "At least we can say we spent a night in Rome during our honeymoon."


	54. Hope

**Day Three: Hope**

Our second day here is proving to be far more interesting than our first. After flying in to Nassau, the capital of the Bahamas (which I'd like to visit properly while we're here), we took a chartered flight to our little rental island... and then we had them take us right to our room so we could both collapse into bed for a long afternoon nap.

Today is better.

After a good night's rest in a gorgeous four-poster bed– curtained no less, like something out of a movie– I'm feeling so much better. We had croissants and jam and fresh fruit this morning for breakfast and then had a proper tour of the place. It has everything we could possibly need: tennis court, billiard room, Jacuzzi, gym, and a private beach just off our villa. By the time we were up and out it was too hot to take a jog so I'm making use of the treadmill while Seth, being rather more adventurous, is off snorkelling. But even running in place seem exciting when you're doing it while staring through a glass wall at an endless expanse of rolling turquoise waves.

And yet my thoughts keep turning to other matters, to Pablo and to Riev. They could be anywhere. They could be lounging on a beach somewhere not so far away– Cuba perhaps or Haiti. I want so much to put it all behind me, but how can I when it never seems to end? Riev was one of the masterminds behind the attack on my family last year. We thought he was dead. What if the others are alive too? Valter... but no, Seth shot him. I was there.

All at once I realize I'm no longer jogging, I'm running. I don't even remember changing the settings on the treadmill, but I'm racing as if for my life... and getting nowhere at all.

I step off the treadmill and concentrate on my breathing for a minute until my heartbeat begins to slow. In and out. In and out like the turquoise waves. It's been less than a year. I need time, that's all.

I start, spinning at the sound of footsteps.

But it's only Seth and I chide myself for the way my heart has leapt into my throat. We're safe. Of course we're safe.

He's still holding his snorkelling gear and dripping wet. You'd think he'd feel chilled in the air conditioning, but he's smiling– grinning even. He looks so thoroughly delighted that I find myself smiling in return, my fears drifting away with the tide.

"You had fun?"

"I saw a ray and an angelfish, even a puffer– the one with the spines."

"How was the water?"

"Warm. And very clear. Perfect for snorkelling."

I squeeze his arm as he stands there, his swim trunks dripping seawater onto the floor. He forgot to towel himself off. It's so unlike him, so rare that he gets this excited. "I'm glad you had fun."

"It was amazing. You should come with me next time," he says, brushing a damp strand of hair away from his eyes. "I can show you how– it's not difficult."

"I don't know, Seth... You know I'm not the world's best swimmer."

"I'd be right there with you."

I smile– wanly, I realize– because as much as I love Seth, I know his being there can't stop bad things from happening. I wish it could– or at least I wish I could believe that. As a child, he seemed like a super hero to me. The suit and tie were his disguise, his armour. The night he was shot I saw what was under that armour and it was flesh and blood and bone.

"Eirika?"

The drops of seawater that cling to his skin catch the sunlight and he glistens. Seth doesn't need armour to shine.

"Eirika?" he says again, sounding worried as I wrap my arms around him.

"It's nothing. I've been fretting, that's all."

He squeezes me tightly. I draw back a moment to press my lips against the pale scar on his right shoulder and his skin tastes like sea salt. If even Seth can relax so completely, can find such child-like joy during our time here, then surely there's hope for me yet.


	55. Egypt

**Day Four: Egypt**

We're on our private beach, Seth, reclining in a long chair, reading a book, while I sit on a beach towel in the shade of an umbrella, painting my nails to match my little red bikini, when I get the call. It's Ephraim and I almost drop the phone when I hear what he has to tell me.

Seth springs out of his chair as, the moment I end the call, I start to cry. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"They got them," I say as I cling to Seth.

"Who?"

"Pablo and Riev. Oh, I can't believe it." And I laugh, tears still streaming down my cheeks, and I hug Seth and kiss his lips, while he looks bewildered.

"Eirika, I–" I interrupt him with another kiss. I feel as if I've been Atlas, carting the world around on my shoulders, but now it's gone and I'm as light as the seabirds coasting overhead. "Darling..." he says, gripping me by the shoulders. "Do you think you could start at the beginning?"

"Ephraim called. He's had word from Duessel. Pablo and Riev– both of them have been arrested. They were supposed to rendezvous in Cairo apparently. They managed to follow Pablo right to Riev and they're both under arrest now."

"Both of them?"

"Yes."

"They're sure?"

"Yes!"

His arms wrap around me like a vice. "Thank God." I had thought him calm, relaxed, but the fervency of his whisper tells another story.

"You were worried?" I ask, pulling off his sunglasses so I can see his eyes.

"How could I not be?" He strokes my face and stares into my eyes. "After everything..."

I smile and trail my fingers through his hair. "But it's over now. We're safe now. We're..."

Safe as we'll ever be... I suppose that's as much as we can ask for. I take a breath and turn my thoughts away from Pablo and Riev. With any luck it was the Egyptian local authorities who caught them so that they're rotting in a drafty stone cell right now. With rats. I hope there are rats.

Seth tilts my chin up. I look up into his eyes and find kindness there and understanding. We've walked this path together.

"We're on our honeymoon," I say then. "And I can think of better ways to enjoy our time... can't you?" I wink and his lips quirk. Taking his hand in mine, I grab my beach towel and lead him towards a promising looking spot of shade.

After all, we can't having anything sensitive getting sunburned.


	56. Old

**Day Five: Old**

We spend the day in Nassau to celebrate. Freedom: from worries, from work, and, with any luck, from the past. We visit a waterfront market where we pick out souvenirs for ourselves and our friends– rum, liqueurs, crafts, and some lovely exotic jams like the ones we've been having for breakfast– and then visit a few of the trendier stores. I pick out a pair of earrings with tanzanite and opal inlay. A blue stone with the swirling turquoise of the opal... I'm a sucker for pieces like that.

Before dinner we head to the beach. Clutching our discarded sandals, our fingers intertwined, we walk barefoot in the surf. An ambitious wave washes over my ankles, splashing up my calves and I laugh and wind my arms around Seth's waist. He's wearing a Hawaiian shirt, of all things. Yet wearing it unbuttoned the way he does, he somehow manages to make it sexy rather than silly.

He nuzzles my hair, my ears, and whispers that he loves me.

"Will you still love me when I'm a withered old lady?"

"Of course." I yelp as he nips at my ear. "As long as you don't have twenty-five cats."

I want to come up with a clever reply but the way his lips are trailing along my jaw is just so distracting...

Seth straightens and clears his throat as a trio of beach-goers walks past us. Since he's so jittery about public displays of affection, it's really a blessing that we can afford our own little island. "We should head to the restaurant," he says. I resist the urge to tease him and ask what's so embarrassing about making out with a gorgeous woman in public. I'm certain he'd mumble something about it being "not proper," or some such thing you'd think came out of a Jane Austen novel.

The restaurant is new and was advertised as "hip" and "stylish." L'Arachel said it's the place to be in Nassau. It's a split level affair with dining on the lower floor and a bar slash club up top. As we work our way through a delightful array of fresh seafood, I can hear the thump of a bass beat, like the distant heartbeat of something huge and old, a whale, or some strange creature of the deep, or maybe of the ocean itself. To me, it's more intoxicating than the fruity, rum-laced drink that I'm sipping.

While I enjoy a pina colada cake– the house specialty on the dessert menu– Seth nurses an aged dark rum. "Is it as good as your scotch?"

He tilts his head and stares at the amber fluid, his hands around the glass. I have to stifle a laugh– he looks as if he were pondering the meaning of life, or something of similar gravity, rather than a question about how good his rum is.

"It's very nice," he says finally. "I _prefer_ scotch. But it's very good rum. It seems like a waste not to try it while we're here."

It's getting late. The rhythm from upstairs is louder now and I can feel it tugging at me like the tide. I put my hand over his. "Seth?" He looks up from his drink to meet my eyes. "When you're done, I'd like dance."

It's very expensive, very well aged rum, meant for sipping. He downs what's left of it. And I know it' not because he likes club dancing– he doesn't. In fact he mostly will stand there with his hands on my hips, doing his best to at least sway in time, while _I_ do the actual dancing. But he knows what that sort of beat, the kind you can feel right down to your bones, does to me.

The beat crashes over us like a breaker once we're upstairs. It's nothing quite like I've heard before, a kind of blend of trance and island music. I take Seth's hand and lead him through the swaying crowd beneath the technicolour strobe lighting. Already I can feel the atmosphere of the place, the energy on the dance floor in my veins, making me warm and heady.

I raise my hands above my head and rock my hips. Seth may not be able to forget that he's in the centre of a crowd, but I can lose myself in music like this. Under the club lights, no one is more than a flickering shadow cast in the colours of stained glass. I could drown in this music, in his closeness, in the energy of a hundred people all moving in time, riding the same wave.

The world I live in is one of rules and structure. The money has never meant freedom, only a different set of obligations to a different group of people. That's why we used to go clubbing when we were younger, Tana and I. We went to lose ourselves, to be in a crowd, not above it or to one side, but in it, in perfect rhythm with everyone else. When our fortunes fell away beneath the persistent drum of the music, we could find something old, something primal.

The synth beat sends shivers down my spine. Still swaying in time, I step closer to Seth and trail my fingers along his bare skin. A delicious rumbling sound pours out of his chest; I can feel it beneath my palm.

It's hot. Sweat beads on my forehead and begins to trickle down my neck. And it doesn't matter than the music is mixed by a DJ and piped through speakers, that's it's a synth beat and not a tribal drum, because to me the beat runs as deep as the ocean, its story as old as the tides. It's life and struggle, and love and sex and it races like ichor through my veins.

"Seth," I say, leaning close to his ear so he can hear me in the din, "let's go home."

He doesn't protest.

The flight back is going to be torment, I know, but just a while longer and then we'll make love on the beach in the moonlight. Even now as we leave the club, in my mind, the music has melted into the rolling lull of the ocean.


	57. Young

**Day Six: Young**

In spite of our late night, Seth wakes at dawn. I hear him rustling around as he pulls on his jogging ware and I'm tempted to go back to sleep. But running on a tropical beach at dawn isn't something I get to do every day and the thought of a picture-perfect sunrise wins out over sleep. I have to dash to get ready, but I manage to catch him on the veranda doing his stretches.

"Would you mind some company this morning?"

He smiles and nods. He's always quiet it the morning. Quiet_er_.

The ocean is dark as we begin to run, but the sun is a burst of yellow peeking out from the deep purple clouds that hover on the eastern horizon, and the others, higher in the sky, begin to blush in the face of the sun. It's so different from back home. In the city, dawn is little more than an orange haze through the smog.

We run without speaking, without touching save when his arm happens to brush against mine, yet I feel closer to him in this silence than I ever have. All the years I've known him, without ever really knowing him, and now to be here, where to say nothing is to say everything...

After a while we pause for a breather and to take in the sunrise. The sea has caught light from the sky and glints with magenta and gold. I smile up at him as his fingers trail over my cheek, brushing away a stray lock of my hair. For a moment we stand there looking at each other in the dawn light, when all at once I'm struck by a sense of deja vu. I ran with him once before on a sultry tropical morning when I was quite a bit younger.

"Do you remember the last time we did this?" I ask him.

"You mean during your first spring break?"

"You do remember."

He grimaces. "How could I forget? I wanted to kill Innes." Ephraim and I had come up with the idea of renting an island for spring break. I was dating Innes at the time and Tana was seeing Cormag. The five of us decided to vacation together and dad sent Seth to keep an eye on us all.

"Was it the first time you'd been to the Caribbean?"

"Yes."

I laugh. "Honestly, Seth, you got sent to a _tropical island_ for work. You make it sound like it was terrible."

"It was," he says with a groan. "You spent most of the trip in a bikini. You asked me to help you put on sunblock."

"Did I?" It's hard to keep a straight face.

"Yes! You were terrible!"

"I didn't know," I protest. "You acted as if you were... indifferent, as if I was still a little girl. I was just trying to get you to notice me."

He shakes his head, the sunlight catching on his russet hair and turning it to a blazing red. I resist the urge to run my fingers through it. "I took cold showers every day and reminded myself that it was unwise to think about my employer's daughter in... those terms."

"I wish you'd said something."

He shakes his head. "You were nineteen, in your first year of college." His fingers trace down my cheek. He sounds so earnest when he speaks. "You were so young..."

I quirk an eyebrow. "And now I'm older and wiser?"

"Hardly." He tugs on the brim of my cap, pulling it down over my eyes.

"Hey!"

My hand darts out. He yelps and leaps back as I get the ticklish spot on his ribs. Before I manage to get at him again, he catches my wrists and pulls me against him. "You're still terrible," he says.

"I'm still after your attention."

"You have it," he whispers and kisses me.


	58. Heart

**Day Seven: Heart**

I'm not sure what it was that woke me but I find myself listening to the lull of the waves, trying to drift back to sleep. I'm starting to float away when a groan startles me back to wakefulness.

I reach out. In the darkness, Seth's skin is clammy. I can hear him breathing raggedly. He moans again. "Seth." I grip his arm and give him a shake. "Seth, wake up."

No sooner is he awake than he sits up. His silhouette reaches up to rub at his shoulder. His right shoulder, where he was shot. "I'm sorry," he croaks, his voice rough with sleep. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's all right. I was awake anyway. You had a nightmare?"

"Mmm."

"Was it about... what happened?"

"Yes."

I rub his back and lean my head against his shoulder. "It's all right," I whisper. It's the first time I've known him to have a nightmare and I'm at once relieved and saddened by it. I'm not the only one who's been afraid. And for all his bravery in the waking hours, Seth's body still remembers what it is to be shot. This thing that's happened to us all, even though it's over, it's a part of us now.

His arm winds around my waist and he squeezes me and presses a kiss to the top of my head. "I love you," he says before lying back down. I, too, lie down, close against him so I can hear the thrum of his heartbeat.

It's the steady rhythm of his heart, rather than the lull of the waves, that finally soothes me to sleep.


	59. Borrowed

**Day Eight: Borrowed**

"I've been overdue for this vacation," I say with a sigh as I lounge in a stuffed chair. I feel lethargic after our outing earlier today. Seth took me snorkelling and I didn't drown. I consider this a remarkable accomplishment. After that a picnic on the beach and now a quiet evening indoors. It's perfect.

"It's just what we needed," Seth replies as he finishes chalking his pool cue.

He leans over the pool table, takes aim, and sinks the two in the corner pocket. I watch him as he moves to the opposite side of the table and sinks the five and the six in one shot. He goes after a nice easy shot– the red ball (is it the three or the seven? I can never remember.) and misses. Possibly on purpose. "Your turn," he says with a smile. Definitely on purpose.

I pull myself up and retrieve my pool cue. I pick up the blue chalk and dust the tip of my cue because that's what you do, right? And then I glance around the table for a shot I can manage. I used to play now and then in college, but only enough to know the basic rules and to be able to make simple shots.

I spot something, the fourteen sitting near the corner pocket where Seth's misplaced shot nudged it, and I wonder if he set it up for me. I line it up, take the shot, and I'm pleased when I sink the ball without sending the cue ball in after it. After that I spend a while circling the table looking for my next target. "Any suggestions?" I ask, looking up at him.

"The eleven in the bottom right pocket."

I scan the table for the eleven. Ah the red striped one. "What? I can't pull that off." I'd have to hit the cue ball on the side somehow in order to send the eleven flying in the right direction.

"It's not that difficult. Let me show you."

He holds me by the shoulders and nudges me a bit to one side. Then he tells me to take my pool cue. I lean over as if I were going to make the shot and wait for some direction. Instead of directions, Seth leans over me, one arm on either side, taking hold of my hands around the pool cue and adjusting my aim. In the air conditioned room, his body is a mass of heat against me.

His face is near mine and I turn just a little so that we're almost touching. "I think you might be taking advantage of the situation, Mr. Knightly."

He chuckles. "Perhaps. Are you complaining, _Ms._ King?"

"Hmm." Suddenly my mind is filled with pool cue innuendoes. "Why don't we go on with the lesson?" I say, though I'm far too distracted to pay attention at this point. He shows me just how to land the shot, but he doesn't pull away as the ball goes hurtling into the pocket. Instead, as we both straighten, he winds his arms around me and I lean back against him. And for a moment we just stay that way without speaking.

This time together, alone like this, away from our jobs and responsibilities, and freed from the worries that have haunted us of late... I feel as if it's something on loan that I'll have to return as soon as we head back home. And I cherish it all the more for that.

For the hundredth time I glance down at the ring on my hand and the one on his. I have to remind myself that _he's_ not on loan, that he's really mine, to have and to hold...


	60. Blue

**Day Nine: Blue**

Sitting on the sandy beach, encircled by Seth's arms, I'd be content to stay here forever, watching the waves roll in and out. The tide is coming in and the crash of the surf is soothing.

"What are you thinking?" I ask him, for there's a tension that courses through his body.

"Nothing."

"Seth..."

He heaves a sigh. "It'll have been a year soon."

So that's it. I should have known. I've been thinking about it too, but all this time I've been so wrapped up in my own fears that I hardly noticed how Seth has worried too. He's always so calm, so steadfast, that even I overlook it sometimes. "I know."

"If I could have protected you better–"

"You saved my life, Seth."

"You shouldn't have had to see what you did."

I turn to face him. The sand beneath us is still warm, the waves still rolling in and out without pause. The sun is beginning to sink and, bathed in its light, Seth's skin takes on a burnished glow like a bronze statue. Yet as my fingers trace down his arm, he's only flesh and blood. "Seth, it's thanks to you that I'm alive. I _know_ that. You were the one who stayed late that evening. I know dad had told you that you didn't need to stick around for the meeting. It was just Grado after all– old friends." A mirthless laugh. It's hard to believe still. Everything that's happened... it's like a nightmare, one that doesn't go away in the morning.

But here we are, after it all. Here we are together.

"I was there because you were," he says. "I should've–" I stop his lips with mine. It's enough to know that he loved me even then. It's enough to know that he would make things better if he could.

"I love you," I say very firmly then, looking him in the eyes.

He smiles, tangling his fingers in my hair. "I love you too." And then I lean back against him and watch the rolling surf as his arms squeeze me tightly.

The ocean is a vast, endless blue that goes on and on, as our lives go on– not without ripples. I've wondered how I'm to reconcile it, the ebb and flow of our daily lives and the stormy breakers that can leave us strewn on the shore. The only answer I've come to is that it's moments like these, quiet moments that I can treasure, that I can hold dear, these are what's important, these beautiful shards of life.

And so I stare out at the horizon as the sun sinks into the ocean, content to be in Seth's arms. He brushes a kiss over my neck and whispers my name, and for this moment, I have all I need in the world.

**THE END**

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**A/N:** Well there it is! The last prompt. Good thing I didn't post these one at a time or I'd still be posting until next winter. Thank you to everyone who came along for the ride and to those who were kind enough to leave reviews. I hope this story put a smile on your face – as that was pretty much the point of the whole thing.


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